Romeo and Cinderella
by allechant
Summary: She just wants to escape. He just wants to forget. Maybe...maybe they could help each other? Slow LenKu and several frustrating subplots. Cover art credits to Yubi-Yubi on DeviantArt.
1. Chapter 1

One day, she would get out of here. All of them would look at her with wonder and awe in their eyes, and regret everything they had done to her for they were now out of her favour. One day.

Until then, she was stuck here, but she wouldn't allow simple physical confinement to prevent her from devising a plan. She knew she was smart – she would think herself more intelligent than her stepsisters were – and she was quite certain that this plan of hers should work. Well, technically, it should work. It was all up to fate and destiny whether she caught the prince's eye, but if she really managed to win his attentions, then she had a clear ticket out of here. Elated, she giggled to herself.

"As always, you behave like a lunatic," her older stepsister snapped at her, brown eyes narrowed. "Why can't you be normal and quiet for once, like a proper servant? And help me arrange the clothes in my wardrobe," she added as an afterthought, "I need to prepare for the ball tomorrow night, and it would be much easier if I could see everything arranged nicely. What, why are you glaring at me?" her voice sharpened. "Are you seeking punishment, _Cinderella_?" she sneered.

She forced a saintly sweet smile upon her face. "No, of course not, I wouldn't dare," she simpered, turning away from the gloating girl before the smile was instantly wiped away from her face. How dare she talk down to her as though she was nothing, as though she was her lowly servant – even going so far as to order her to arrange her wardrobe! What were the other servants for?

If their mother had not married her own father after her dear mother died, then they wouldn't even be in her home, leeching off their wealth – her father was no longer around to keep an eye on them, and the sisters did as they pleased. Their mother, and now her stepmother, rarely interfered in their activities, and so the sisters practically had free rein of the house. If their families had not become legally bound together, the sisters would still be living in the gutters, while she would be free.

She knew they were just jealous of her, jealous that she had a pampered life the whole time she was growing up whereas they were poor, and had married into the aristocracy. It was why they locked her away in the mansion, _her_ mansion, and forced her to sleep in the attic. All day, she was meant to cook and clean and garden, though her saving grace was that she never had to do all the heavy chores – they had other servants for that. No, she was only a symbolic servant they gloated over. She only had to attend to them personally, but it was more than enough for her wounded pride.

She was not even allowed out of the gates. The most she saw, nowadays, was when she was out in the gardens and she could see the carriages driving past, far out at the main road. She wished she could leave the place and see the world, because ever since she was twelve all she saw were these four walls and the sprawling gardens. She saw nothing else, was not allowed to exist outside of this gated community. Leaving here was her only true wish; she desired only that, and nothing else.

The wet cloth she held in her hands wiped over the already polished, clean surface of the wardrobe. She could see her reflection in the dark mahogany – green eyes, narrowed and intent, and long, teal hair, done up in two pigtails. She hated this hairstyle for it made her think of a child, but her darling stepsisters insisted that she keep her hair in this do, probably just so they could mock her. They liked to pull on her long pigtails for added emphasis when they spoke, and she had long gotten used to the pain.

"Anastasia!" came the high-pitched wail of the younger stepsister as she burst into the older one's room, looking distressed, her hair in complete disarray around her face. "I can't decide what to wear to the ball tomorrow, and my hair – my hair is a disaster, I couldn't possibly leave the house looking like this. I need to win the prince's heart. I must be the princess of this kingdom!" she insisted.

Anastasia didn't even look up from her crocheting. "You have come to the wrong person, Lucinda, and you know it," she said primly. She hated that prim, proper way of speaking Anastasia had – it seemed too forced and artificial. "You should ask Mother for help, she's probably hiding in her room again, crying or the like," she said dismissively. "Or…you could ask our dear stepsister," her voice became sly, and she could practically feel Lucinda's stare boring into her as the younger girl turned to face her, finally deigning to acknowledge her existence. She pretended she was not listening.

" _Her?_ " Lucinda sounded disgusted, but she was none too pleased to be associated with the little brat, either. Anastasia was older, bossier and haughtier, but at the very least she was not an obnoxious little fifteen-year-old who thought that the world revolved around her and whined the very first instance she did not get what she wanted. Lucinda was the very definition of a brat – it was only in terms of her impression of Lucinda that she was similar to the older stepsister. "I don't want to be touched by her. She would probably ruin my hair, or cut holes in my dress out of sheer spite."

Lucinda was not wrong in thinking that. If she could get away with such behaviour, she most definitely would, but the knowledge that she would be punished kept her in check. Nevertheless, fantasising about dashing Lucinda's self-absorbed dreams of being the princess kept her entertained. "You know hairstyles and fashion are not really my forte. I am only interested in crocheting, knitting and needlework," Anastasia's tone was heavy with irony, as this was the exact same phrase Lucinda had used to describe her sister just days ago. "So I'm afraid I cannot help you, Lucinda. Now get out."

Lucinda glared at her older sister for a while, who just peacefully continued to crochet, before she shot her a displeased look and beckoned to her to leave the room with her. She knew she had no choice but to leave, for if she chose to ignore the younger stepsister she would no doubt kick up a gigantic fuss, so she left the damp cloth on top of Anastasia's wardrobe and followed the bratty child.

Lucinda's room was a little distance away from Anastasia's, and as different from Anastasia's as it could possibly be. Anastasia's room was a fuss to clean because of all the fancy embroidery and knits she kept everywhere. Lucinda's room, on the other hand, had few such embellishments – all she had were the lacy, flowery curtains that came with every room other than her attic, and the heavy, floral carpet that covered the floor. Other than that, there was a bed, a dresser and a wardrobe, and little else. However, she knew perfectly well where the mess in Lucinda's room was kept, and sighed in resignation.

The brat opened her wardrobe, and instantly about eight dresses, some formal and some not, slid out of the wardrobe into a heap on the carpet. Lucinda screamed in horror as some of her precious dresses touched the floor, and started demanding that she pick up all the dresses _at once_ and arrange them properly and neatly in her wardrobe for her. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but did as Lucinda told her, for fear that she would have to put up with a hysterical fit if she did not.

"I want to wear something frilly, and perhaps pink or white," Lucinda was now saying as she picked up yet another heavy ballroom dress, made of taffeta and silk and entirely too decadent for a girl like Lucinda, who did not know how to truly appreciate such finery. "The prince shall be utterly charmed by me, and he will have eyes for me alone! And we will fall in love and live happily ever after," she said dreamily, her hands clasped together. "So you must not ruin anything for me," she suddenly snapped back into reality, voice hardening as she shot her a glare. "I will never forgive you if so."

"I would suggest that perhaps you do not try to overwhelm the prince with your gift of the gab if you wish to make a good first impression," she said, semi-sarcastically. "Men generally prefer a woman to be demure and…quiet," she let the word linger in the air between them, while Lucinda stared at her with an expression of affront on her face. She knew she might regret what she said later when Lucinda ran screaming to Anastasia about how disrespectful she was as a servant, but she honestly could not care. Girls like Lucinda were like… _vermin_. They would simply never stop irritating people.

"Well, at least I would get to meet the prince, whereas _you_ are cooped up here, never able to meet someone as darling as him!" the brat fumed, finally regaining her voice. "It's because you're utterly filthy, just like what we call you – _Cinderella_. I bet you don't even remember your real name anymore because you don't deserve a real name. You're all ashes and dirt, and you're worthless!"

She whipped around, glaring at the redhead, who suddenly flinched back – rarely had she allowed her temper to show before the stepsisters, but she was tired of putting up with this nonsense. She had been putting up with Lucinda's temper tantrums and insults for an entire week already, ever since the household received notice of the prince's ball, hosted for his birthday. Even she, with her fear of punishment, had her limits, and Lucinda had finally crossed those boundaries. "Yes, I do remember my real name," she said evenly, though her gaze was filled with bitter poison. "My name is Hatsune Miku, not Cinderella. And one day, you little brat, I will regain my fortune. Your luxuries are a result of _my_ family's wealth, do not forget that, and even if I am in this state now because of your interference, at the very least I was never a pathetic little street urchin like you," she spat.

Lucinda paled. She looked like she was mortally wounded, her hand placed exaggeratedly over her heart, before she flounced out of the room and ran, no doubt, to Anastasia. Miku rolled her eyes, already knowing she would tattle, and that she would no doubt be punished for her insolence, but it felt good to tell Lucinda to her face that she was an annoyance. She left the rest of Lucinda's dresses on the floor and went back up to her room, deciding to hide there as long as she could before she was found and dragged to the cold, dank cellar for her punishment. She hated the cellar.

But at the very least, this time she had the bright memory of shutting Lucinda up to tide her through the cold, the dust, and the very hopelessness and despair that came with being shut alone in the dark.

* * *

"Romeo died to be with Juliet," he said flatly, sipping from a glass of wine he held in his hand. "And quite unfortunately, I am not dead, so I'm afraid that I am unworthy of that nickname. Stop referring to me as that," he was facing away from his adoptive father, the king. The king sighed wearily.

"You know I'm not the one who calls you that. Everyone else in the kingdom decided that was an apt nickname ever since tales of your attempted suicide over the death of a girl spread here from the neighbouring town. Perhaps, if you did not want this nickname, you should not have tried to kill yourself," the king said, his voice heavy with irony. The prince did not rise to the bait, still looking out of the window. The hedges needed trimming, he decided. He would tell the gardener later.

"Perhaps, then, I should not have been saved," he said simply, and the king did not respond to that. He swirled the deep burgundy liquid in his glass, looking at his reflection – sharp blue eyes framed in a pale, angular face, with high cheekbones and a furrowed brow. A contemplating angel, he would be described. People called him beautiful. He didn't know whether to take that as a compliment or as a burden. He would rather not be known as handsome, for what use was beauty in the world, really?

"Is it necessary that I host this ball?" he added, the main reason why he came to seek an audience with his father to begin with. "I am not interested in meeting new people, and would rather just celebrate my birthday with the people in the castle, the servants who I already know well. Why must you always force me into awkward social situations, Your Majesty?" the last two words sounded forced, because he was still unused to referring to his father as the king. Even after all these long months, these years, it was still strange to him. To think that he was a prince now…

"Because I am tired of you pining, and I want to establish a bloodline for the throne before we get caught up in politics once more," the king answered calmly, almost placidly, though the prince had already asked the same question at least five times before. "Go to the ball, meet someone you can at least tolerate for longer than five minutes, then have a heir. Is that really so difficult for you?"

At this point, he did turn around, sending his adopted father a look. The king simply smiled, his eyes closing. "Well, it's also time for you to move on. How long has it been…three years already, isn't it?" the prince did not answer, so he took his silence as an affirmative. "You do not have to do this out of love. It's just…a duty. Duty to your bloodline, the throne and your country. That is what a prince does. A prince, above all, honours his country. This is what you must do to continue the royal bloodline, and prevent the messy, bloody struggle that came with an uncertain throne a decade ago."

Suddenly, the prince laughed. "You know, speaking of politics," he took another quick drink, the wine dark as poison, "back during the turmoil, I was already _this_ close to becoming the prince," he held his thumb and index finger together, indicating just how close it was. "It was only because you won that I ended up here, though. Funny thing, isn't it, fate? Makes you wonder what sort of bad luck it will decide to throw at you next. Good people never have any luck," he laughed bitterly.

The king merely gazed steadily at the prince, who stared back with a firm, if challenging, resolve. He knew the moment he chose this boy to be his adopted son that he might one day regret his decision. He might one day wish that he abandoned him on the streets, left him to die – for he was a total, complete stranger, and he wasn't obliged to rescue a stranger. Yet, when he saw the boy, this young adolescent threatening to kill himself, somehow the blond haired youth with the desperate blue eyes reminded him of himself. That same desperation and passion, that same drive and fury he once possessed in his own youth – he couldn't let such fire just extinguish itself like that, could he?

"Some people would say it's due to luck that you're here, and say you have good fortune for you're still alive," he finally answered, and the prince flinched, dropping the glass of wine. The sparkling wineglass fell to the ground and shattered, the deep burgundy liquid within splattering over the carpet, a red stain spreading quickly over the scarlet and gold embroidered tapestry. The prince simply stared down at the stain, as though he could not believe what he was seeing. Both of them just watched the stain spreading…it looked almost like blood to him. It brought back memories, of things he both had to but didn't want to remember – dead eyes, pale, cold, waterlogged skin, staring accusatorily at him, asking _why_ –

"Call for Gumi, ask her to come quickly and clean up the mess," his father ordered him. There were no guards present to carry this out, since he had asked for a private audience, and he was trusted enough to not be suspected of planning an assassination attempt. The kingship was still in turmoil, and the allegiances of people had yet to fully settle. Everyone who walked into the throne room was subject to doubt and suspicion, even him – especially him, he who was not related by blood to the throne. But then again, he, as the prince, had never before shown any sign of coveting the throne.

He did as he was ordered, walking away from the stain on the carpet to the grand, ornate doors that led to the throne room. He knocked once on the doors, and slowly the doors opened as the guards situated outside, on either side of the double doors, created the path for him to pass through. He beckoned to one of the guards outside, and the man leant towards him. "Yes, Your Highness?" he asked.

"Go and find Gumi, ask her to come here now. There's a mess she needs to clean up," the guard looked curious at the mention of a mess, but did as he commanded and went off to look for the head servant, who most likely was bustling around the second floor, ensuring that the other servants were cleaning the rooms enough to meet her very particular standards of cleanliness. When the guard was gone, he went back in, leaving the remaining guard to his station. His fingers trembled.

He could still taste the slight sourness of wine in his mouth, and suddenly, the liquor that had always been used as an escape seemed terribly foul. He wanted to spit, and rinse his mouth out with water to wash away the feelings of guilt and fear. "I've done as you asked me to," he told his father.

The king nodded, having gotten up from his throne. His robes were long and luxurious, snow-white fur trimming the finest silk, dyed in bright, commanding red. He wore no crown, for he needed no elaborate headpiece to show that he had power, that he was the ruler of the land. The crown was usually locked away in the highest part of the palace, along with the king's sceptre. "The stain will be difficult to wash out," he observed, "especially since the carpet is too big to remove and dry. Gumi will have a migraine scrubbing it clean, but I can't imagine her giving the job to another servant."

"Gumi would rather die than allow someone else to clean this room," he replied, and that was perfectly true. The head of the servants, Nakajima Gumi, was the king's personal attendant and did everything for him. She was the one who wrote letters and arranged his meetings – she was secretary, cook, cleaner and gardener all in one. Her twin brother, who also served in the royal household and was the prince's personal butler, often helped Gumi when she had too much work on her hands to finish alone. The Nakajima twins were perfectionists who terrorised the rest of the castle's servants with their high expectations and practically unrealistic standards.

Nevertheless, they were friendly. He found that they were a delight to talk to, both of them being fairly well-educated and capable of holding their own when it came to debate on arts and culture. He would not admit to anyone, however, that it was starting to get boring, always seeing and talking to the same faces every single day. "She is too attached to her job," the king snorted. "I should get her out a little more, so she can see that there is more to life than just…scrubbing floors and making desserts," he shook his head. "Which is exactly why the ball ought to go forward," he edged the conversation back to where they were earlier, and the prince let out a groan. "Holding this ball will keep the servants busy, and allow them to have a change of pace and scenery for once. You know that holding this ball will do _you_ some good, too. Put a little colour back in your face," he noted.

"Maybe I don't want colour in my face," he retorted snappishly. "I've always been paler than most, even compared to other aristocrats. And I don't want to talk to anyone now. All those women who come to the ball for my eighteenth birthday…" he shook his head. "What more are they after other than my status as royalty? I do not want to mingle with such social climbers. I will host the ball," he glanced at the king, expression hard, "but I know you want me to find a wife, and I will not do that at this ball," his voice rang with finality, and even the king did not wish to start up another argument.

"Very well, if that is your wish. But I fully expect you to have taken a bride, or at the very least, find someone to be interested in, by your twentieth birthday," the king said, just as sharply. "You should have found a fiancée years ago, after you recovered. Your refusal is one reason why these social climbers, as you call them, are flocking to you so. With or without a fiancée, I would have expected you to hold a ball anyway. Eighteen is a monumental year," the king walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder – a surprisingly fatherly move. He was rather taken aback by the gesture.

"I might not dislike them so much if they would all stop clinging on to me and simpering. It's annoying," he folded his arms, subtly nudging the king's hand off his shoulder. The king either did not notice what he did or simply ignored the gesture, letting his hand fall back to his side. "And they like to call me by this accursed nickname – ' _Prince Romeo, it is absolutely delightful to meet you'_ ," he mimicked the ladies, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "I hate that nickname. Do I really seem like a Romeo?" he asked the king, who shrugged, smiling a little. "I'm not a tragic, lovelorn hero. Just because I tried to…" the words wouldn't come out. He struggled to speak, then gave up.

Before the king could respond, there was a loud knock on the door, and suddenly Gumi, the head servant, burst into the throne room, her green hair tied in a perfectly neat bun as her sharp green eyes flashed at both of them. "Now, who created this mess?" she demanded instantly, pointing aggressively to the dark stain – it had finally stopped spreading, and was about the size of a dinner plate – that marred the otherwise grand carpet. Despite her tone of disrespect, the king and prince batted not an eyelid, for they knew that Gumi was good at her job, save for her one flaw – whenever something went wrong she would explode at the perpetrator without fail, disregarding utterly their status. Of course, she would apologise for her behaviour, but only after she calmed down.

"I did," he admitted, trying to inject some guilt into his voice. Gumi narrowed her eyes at him, then started to mutter things so quietly he could not hear her – probably something to do with the mess, his carelessness, and how much work it would take to get the stain completely out of the carpet. He did not know whether to laugh or remain silent, because this head servant was honestly the first person he had ever seen – her twin brother being the second – who was so… _fussy_ about tidiness.

"I have asked you before time and time again, Your Highness," she said, sounding imploring, as one of the other servants came puffing and wheezing into the room, carrying a bucket full of cleaning supplies, "please do not drink wine in the throne room. Do you know how difficult it is to get wine out of wool? It took two entire weeks' worth of scrubbing the previous time. We beg you to make our lives a little easier," she continued, kneeling down on the carpet and grabbing a wet cloth from the bucket the other servant set down next to her. Gumi nodded at the servant, and the servant scampered out of the throne room, shooting the head servant a nervous look as he left.

"I'm very sorry, Gumi," he said, contrite, aware that the king was outright smirking beside him. The smirk was wiped off his face when Gumi looked up – it would not do well for the king's subjects to notice his amusement. The king was always expected to be strict, calm and rational, not easily amused by the sight of his adopted son being lectured by a palace servant. "I will be careful next time, I promise. If you can get the stain out perfectly, I'll give you permission to arrange for only carrot-themed dishes for a week," he promised, though the king now looked horrified. Gumi blinked, looking pleased at the prospect of a week full of carrots, but then quickly caught herself and frowned.

"Do not try to distract me, Your Highness!" she exclaimed, furiously scrubbing away at the dark stain. It didn't seem to be budging. "I will not be swayed from this topic just by the mention of my favourite food. There must not be a next time. This shall be the final time! We lowly servants are only here to serve your every comfort, but nevertheless there shall not be dirt or stains allowed in this castle – this is my vow, and I shall uphold it. Your Highness, I beseech you – please drink wine only in the dining room or your own room, where it is much easier to clean up any spillages."

"We'll see about that," he answered, shrugging and exchanging a look with the king. Gumi seemed to give up, knowing that to press the royal even further would be outright disrespect, not just plain, simple nagging. She went back to muttering under her breath, lips moving too quickly for him to decipher what she was saying, but he guessed it was nothing too good. Gumi had been a servant here for longer than his adoptive father was king – Gumi was born and raised in the castle, while the king had only been in power the last eight years. As a result, everyone had a certain respect for the head servant of the royal household, even the king himself. She knew things, she heard stories.

As he made to leave, deciding that he had done enough here and perhaps it was time for him to return to his room or to the stables, Gumi looked up from her scrubbing, her green hair starting to come a little out of her bun. Her face was red from exertion as her arms continued scrubbing away. "They say that you might find your true love at your ball, Prince Romeo – that maybe someone else will be your Juliet now. At least, that's the rumour around the palace," he froze at what she said, turning to look back at her. Gumi was staring at the king, who himself seemed to be rather curious about this particular rumour. "Probably started by one of the servant girls…but what do you think, Your Highness? Do you think that we might finally have the chance to serve a princess?"

"No," his answer was sharp and cold, and Gumi actually stopped scrubbing the carpet at the tone of his voice, uncertainty flitting across her expression. No one had ever heard him sound so brutal before, though it could not be denied that the prince was far from friendly. "No one would ever replace her. If the solution to my misery was simply to hold a ball, then another person would have entered my life ages ago, and I wouldn't be in this state now. There is no possible way to replace someone who has already _died_ ," he hissed, unable to help himself – it was not the servant's fault that he was so sensitive about this topic, but the very mention of his circumstances angered him.

"I…I'll let the servants know," she answered – calmly, he gave her credit for that, but he could see the shock in her green eyes at how strangely he was behaving. For all his faults and his moodiness, he rarely lost his temper so completely. "It'll be difficult to squash the rumours, though," she added, "the ladies who are coming tomorrow night are excited because of them. They all believe they might be the fated one, so to speak. After all, Your Highness, you're at a marriageable age."

He was already almost out of the door, one hand placed against the wooden surface. He paused when she said that word – _marriage_. It made him uneasy. "I don't want to marry, nor do I want to find a fiancée yet," he said shortly. "Father forced it upon me, but it doesn't mean I _will_ ," he shot his adopted father a meaningful glance. The king ignored him. "And…" his voice trailed off, and he remained silent for a while, to gather his thoughts. He could feel Gumi watching him, the sounds of her cleaning having paused for a moment. "I don't want to be known as Romeo anymore," he finally said. "I have a name. It's Kagamine Len. I'm not willing to take on the name of a dead lover, because it's not my right. You could call me suicidal, depressed, or even outright insane, but call me by my name, not by a tragic euphemism for the experiences I went through."

With that, he exited the room, the guards closing the double doors behind him. Gumi stared at the closed doors, her brow furrowed. "Is there something wrong with him today?" she asked the king, the man she was the most loyal to. He was a fair ruler, not cruel and hard-hearted like the previous king, and he treated all his staff with respect. She enjoyed working under him. "He normally is not like that. Moody he may be, but he rarely gets angry and expresses his opinions even less."

The king sighed, reaching down into the bucket and passing her another soap-laden cloth before she could protest against him participating in manual labour. "He's growing up," was all the king said. "Some people have to grow up before others, and when one is thrust into adulthood like he was…well, they change, which is only to be expected. Just that sometimes, the change isn't…always for the better."

He sounded wistful, deep blue eyes staring off into the distance as he stood over her. She knew better than to question him while he was reminiscing like this, so she just ducked her head and went back to her cleaning, secretly glad that as a servant, she had the ability to become invisible. Servants were meant to be seen but not heard. They did not have a presence, so for now, she hid hers.


	2. Chapter 2

The entire morning, and for most part of the afternoon as well, Anastasia and Lucinda were busily preparing for the ball, Lucinda having imperiously commanded her stepsister to assist her with her dressing up. She was threatened with punishment if she did not do her job, so she grudgingly agreed to help, though sometimes she wondered if the cellar would be a preferable alternative.

Miku was now braiding Lucinda's hair, purposely yanking as hard as she could whenever the opportunity arose. The girl yelped and whined whenever she pulled, telling her to be more gentle with her beautiful, gorgeous hair – which she might actually agree with, if it weren't for the fact that long periods of time spent in intricate dos had long ruined Lucinda's vivid red hair – and Miku sweetly explained that if she didn't pull, the style wouldn't be tight, and then it wouldn't be nice anymore. Always one to suffer for her beauty, Lucinda would fall silent, much to her pleasure.

What could be said about the younger stepsister was that she had a terrible sense of colour coordination. The gown she insisted on wearing today, a horribly garish, ruffled affair made of pink lace, silk and ribbons, clashed terribly with her bright hair. Unable to let such an atrocity pass, despite it being worn by Lucinda, Miku had suggested changing to a more muted, pale green gown, which was simpler and easier to walk in, and much more pleasant to look at. However, Lucinda stubbornly insisted on wearing the pink terror and even claimed that Miku was out to destroy her chances at happiness. Ultimately, she gave up and decided that there was no love lost between her and the brat – if she wanted to be the laughingstock of the ball, then she was free to go ahead.

"Oh, _Cinderella_ ," Anastasia's mocking voice floated through the door, and she cringed, absolutely hating the sound of the name. It was a little joke the stepsisters thought most funny – to nickname her, giving her the name of the servant in the fairy tale who dusted and cleaned and, just like her, had two terrible stepsisters and a stepmother. On the bright side though, Cinderella ended up finding her happiness and marrying a prince, which was something she intended to achieve as well.

"Yes?" she called in as respectful a tone as possible, resenting herself for sounding so meek and demure. She wished she could spit insults and fire at the girl, but held herself back – she would save her energy for tonight, where she would outshine the stepsisters and make them regret everything they ever did to her. Besides, for her plan to work, she needed to be able to get out of the house, and there was no way she could sneak out of the manor if she was locked _again_ in the dank cellar.

"Why did you pause?" Lucinda demanded, staring lovingly at herself in the mirror as Miku's fingers stopped weaving her hair, her attention diverted by Anastasia's call. "Don't let that old cow distract you," Lucinda snapped her fingers impatiently. Miku glanced back at the brat, her eyes narrowing in distaste. "Focus on me! I need to be the most beautiful woman the prince has ever seen so that he will fall instantly in love with me. I will be his new Juliet, and we shall be happy together," she sighed, in a world of her own. She thought that it would be almost brutal to shake Lucinda out of her imagination, since she knew it would never come true, so she just let the girl happily daydream.

Anastasia came into Lucinda's room then, looking as haughty and superior as she always did. Her hair was already swept up into an elegant bun, chestnut coloured hair shining with a soft sheen. She wore a periwinkle blue gown which fitted nicely at the bodice, cinching in at the waist, and flared out magnificently from her hips onwards, giving her the illusion of a figure for Miku knew that the girl was ridiculously straight and flat. Anastasia was much better at dressing up than Lucinda was, though Lucinda was the one who claimed to love fashion more, and she had to admit that Anastasia looked rather charming. It didn't hide the malicious intent that dripped from her, however.

Her searching gaze narrowed on Miku almost immediately. "Well, dear Cinderella," her lips curled into a sneer, "we are about to leave soon, in perhaps fifteen minutes. Hurry up with Lucinda and get her ready, the horses are readied for our departure already. Don't forget to get the house cleaned and tidied before we arrive. I do not want to see a single speck of dust on my dresser, or you'll be in the cellar for a whole week – and you'd best have supper prepared for our return, too. Lucinda," she added, turning her haughty gaze towards her sister, "you look utterly atrocious in that outfit. Do not tell anyone at the ball tonight that we are related…it would do nothing other than to shame me."

With that, Anastasia swept out of the room as quickly as she entered. The door had just barely closed behind her when Lucinda got into one of her temperamental fits, screaming about how Anastasia was just jealous of her beauty and how she was an old hag who would never be able to find a suitor. Miku sighed to herself and continued braiding the girl's hair – she was actually of the opinion that such an intricate hairstyle, the mass of braids and pins that Lucinda demanded, would clash terribly with her messy, complicated dress and make it look even more disastrous. However, with Lucinda in such a state already, she thought it would be better to just hold her tongue.

* * *

She stood at the door, watching the horses clop off with the carriage, carrying her two stepsisters and her stepmother. The carriage was heading up the hill towards the palace, which was located not too far away from here. The town houses of the aristocrats were all fairly close together, and they all nestled together within the shadows of the kingdom's large, imposing palace.

She waited until the carriage was so far away that if her stepsisters were to turn and look out, they would not even see her standing here anymore. Then she hurried back into the house to get ready her own outfit for the ball. She would attend, no matter what – she would be the one who made sure that the prince's heart was hers. It was not because she desired love or romance, nor was it because she wished for wealth and status. She had enough of fame, her family was well-to-do. And she did not want to tie herself down to the prince, because being royalty was not really something she wanted to think about. No, she simply wanted a way to get out of this manor for good.

Her stepsisters were the very bane of her existence, and she could stand them no longer. For six years of her life, she was treated as inferior, a pet dog among her owners. They sneered at her, mocked her to her face, tried to tear her down and make her forget she was a Hatsune – make her forget that she, as a Hatsune, had all right to her fortune, even if they were now part of her family too. But she would not forget. She hated them so much that her desire to reclaim her status and get her revenge was all she could think about every day. She had to get away from them to start fighting for her inheritance, and then they would suffer. She would see that they got kicked out into the streets, made to beg and suffer much the same way she did, once her father left her behind.

She didn't even particularly care for her fortune. She only wanted it back because it was _hers_ , and now Anastasia, Lucinda and her stepmother were abusing her property. She would get back what she rightfully deserved, and she would do so by leveraging off the royal family's power. The thought of escaping from the house, just running away to seek her fortune, had occurred to her before – but she knew, logically, that she would not get far. She did not have much money of her own. What was left of her inheritance was sentimental in value, and even if she could bring herself to sell it away, she knew she would not manage to earn much. And without money, how could she flee this place?

She could earn her passage across the oceans on a ship – a romantic notion were it not for the fact that this area was landlocked, and there was not a single large body of water in sight. She didn't know much about the surrounding area, only knowing vaguely the roads that led in and out of here, and maybe a handful of the surrounding towns, which were all quite a distance away. It would be a long, arduous journey on foot for a girl with little money, clothes, food or basic necessities of any sort. Her stepsisters would almost definitely find her before she got too far, and then she would be dragged home and punished severely for her disobedience. So she needed a better plan than just running away from home and trying to seek her fortune. She needed a way to definitely get out of the manor without the risk that she would be forcibly brought back home. But what plan could she devise?

The idea of using the royal family as a way to escape – for even Anastasia and Lucinda could not defy the will of royalty – came to mind when one morning, a week ago, she collected the morning post and found out that there would be a ball coming to celebrate the prince's birthday. The prince, the king's adopted son of three years, was currently still single and had no fiancée whatsoever. Many girls were trying to obtain his affections, and this ball would be the perfect opportunity for them. She quickly realised that it was an opportunity not just for them, but for her as well. The ball was open to anyone who wished to come, as long as they dressed and behaved appropriately, as was expected of the aristocracy. She had no problems with dressing up or manners, since she was a noble since birth after all. She just had to find a way to sneak to the ball and catch the prince's eye.

It didn't take her long to come up with a plan, and tonight, she excitedly brought the plan to fruition. Rushing back up to her attic room, she opened up her shabby little wardrobe – compared to Anastasia and Lucinda's huge, spacious closets, hers could only hang exactly five sets of the same drab, grey servant's uniform she wore – and carefully, she felt her way towards the very back of the wardrobe, which she had covered with pieces of cloth and ribbons left over from crafts Anastasia had started on but didn't bother to finish. She felt beneath the mass of softness, and her searching fingers found the edge of a hard, wooden box. She smiled in satisfaction, pulling the box out.

It was a medium-sized box, nothing very special about it. It was made of simple, varnished wood, usable and simple, but it was one of the boxes Miku's mother had used to store her dresses, and Miku treasured it very much. Sitting on her threadbare bed – she could feel a spring shifting underneath her weight – she slowly lifted the lid of the box, smiling down at the sight within.

Inside the box, there were exactly three dresses, three dresses she had managed to salvage from her father's self-destructive rampage after her mother died. Three dresses were perfect for her since the prince's eighteenth birthday was a grand occasion and to celebrate it, the ball would be held over the course of three nights. She definitely intended to go for every single night. She took out the very first dress, feeling the heavy, smooth weight of silk and tulle in her hands. She raised the fabric to her cheek, nuzzling against the dress, and a dreamy smile crossed her lips as she thought about the last time she saw this dress being worn. This was one of her mother's favourite dresses.

It was a pure white dress, very elegant and simple like her mother was. The bodice dipped in gracefully and the tulle flared out beautifully, creating a lovely figure even when the dress was unworn. There was a single silver rosebud at the bosom, and the slight train of the dress made it look like something out of a fairy tale. Her mother, when she wore this dress, looked every inch the regal fairy queen, and it was a sight which had inspired her to no end when she was a little girl. Now, she would be the fairy queen – she would be the one slipping into this lovely dress, and she would hold close the spirit of her dear mother as she wore it. She would remember her mother.

After helping Lucinda with her hair, Miku had bathed – she even used some of the bath oils which Lucinda kept in vast quantities in her bathroom cabinet, and now she felt so fresh she glowed. It had been a long time since she took a proper bath, and she figured that since she was meeting the prince tonight, it would be good to be clean, for once. She smelled faintly of lavender too, and she found that scent to be most pleasant. She had thought that the stepsisters would be gone after she took her bath, but apparently there was a delay Lucinda caused, and her stepsisters and stepmother only started to leave when Miku came out of Lucinda's bathing chamber, patting her long hair dry. She kept out of sight until they were already in the carriage, not wanting the sisters to notice that she had taken a bath and suspect that she was up to something. Then she watched them depart.

Her stepmother was the only person who even bothered to look at her before they left. She frowned – she was rather ambivalent regarding her feelings towards her stepmother, for the woman had never done anything to hurt or humiliate her. However, she never did anything to stop her daughters either, and the woman seemed to have no control whatsoever over Anastasia and Lucinda. It was almost as if she didn't exist. Her stepmother was rarely in the house, and when she was, she usually locked herself up in her room, so much that Miku sometimes couldn't quite recall what she looked like. The only thing that she ever remembered were her stepmother's green eyes, because she herself had green eyes too, while Anastasia and Lucinda did not. They had their father's brown eyes. It was a good thing though, because if the stepsisters shared her green eyes, Miku might be tempted to gouge her own eyes out so she would not share any similarities with the stepsisters.

Her stepmother liked to pretend that Miku did not exist, and she did the same thing back to her. As far as Miku was concerned, this manor contained only her, her two jailers, and a mysterious ghost who was always there yet, at the same time, not quite present. Even if she forgot everything about her stepmother, even the colour of her hair and skin, she would always recall those green eyes. Her father and mother had green eyes too. Maybe, since they shared the same eye colour, this was why she did not feel the same animosity towards her stepmother. That, along with the fact that she never did anything to hurt her. In fact, her stepmother was the one who asked Anastasia to allow Miku to visit the market to get groceries. It was Anastasia who had flatly denied the request.

She realised she was getting carried away by her thoughts and memories, and quickly tried on the silver dress she was holding. She had put it on before, just to see how it fit, and it fit her perfectly, but she didn't quite know how she actually looked in the dress since her attic lacked a mirror. She quickly hurried to Lucinda's room, which had a full-length mirror next to the wardrobe, grabbing a simple silver masquerade mask from underneath her creaky bed as she did so. The theme of the ball was masquerade, and she had quickly gotten ready three masks, to match her outfits each night. Anastasia and Lucinda had brought home plenty of masks from the market to wear to the ball, and she simply stole a few when they were not looking. Thankfully, neither of them noticed.

The mask she was now holding was silvery-white, a simple winged design that hid her eyes and revealed the rest of her face. There were three silver teardrop shaped crystals glued to the right corner of the mask. She quite liked it – she had noticed this mask, gleaming at her from the huge pile Anastasia and Lucinda brought back with them, and had taken it without a second thought. It would serve her purpose well tonight, and she thought it was so pretty that she might keep it even after the ball was over and its usefulness was exhausted. She was a rather sentimental person despite her snappishness, and she liked keeping little mementos of events. They served as her memories.

She could not move that quickly to Lucinda's room since she was not used to walking in such a long dress – for six years of her life, after all, she had donned the dreary garb of a servant. She was extremely impatient about seeing her appearance for the first time, so when she finally stepped inside Lucinda's room and stood before the mirror, looking at her reflection, she sighed in relief. It was everything she had hoped for, and more – in the mirror, she saw not a servant, bullied and oppressed by two stepsisters, but rather a beautiful girl who was preparing to attend a ball, her cheeks flushed a light pink with excitement, her lovely dress silvery like it was made of moonlight.

Miku knew she was beautiful. Her whole life she had been told she was a lovely little creature, and the older she grew, the more she blossomed. But even with the knowledge that she was beautiful, she could not help feeling distressed about her appearance since, true to her nickname, she was constantly covered in dirt and dust from cleaning the rooms and heeding the stepsisters' every call. She forgot what it was like to be clean and beautiful, since she was always told how ugly she was, how strange and odd her teal hair was, how she was a freak and how no man would ever want her. She knew it was untrue, but after six years of hearing this constantly, it was difficult to disbelieve.

But now, she had confirmation that her stepsisters were simply lying, because when she twirled in her dress and saw the beautiful girl in the mirror twirl along with her, she knew she was anything but ugly. This person was her. This girl in the gorgeous dress with the sparkling eyes and excited laughter and long, deep teal hair falling down to her waist was undoubtedly her, and she was stunning. She drew a deep breath, watching her reflection do the same, then exhaled. It was time to stop admiring herself, though she liked looking at her reflection, seeing how much a simple bath could change her. Now, she had to do her hair and makeup, and wear her jewellery, put on her mask, then leave.

She applied only very light makeup, just the slightest hint of pink on her cheeks and a brushing of powder across her forehead, so her forehead would not shine terribly if she happened to perspire. She did not want her face to draw attention away from the beauty of her gown, so she left the rest of her face free of makeup. Deciding to continue with the look of elegant simplicity, she wound her long hair up into a simple bun and left it at that. However, it seemed to be lacking a little something, so she rummaged around Lucinda's jewellery boxes and found the perfect hair accessory – a small silver butterfly hairpin. Happily, she pinned it in her hair, deciding that it looked quite lovely.

Her neck and fingers were left bare. She needed no ostentatious necklaces or rings, and Lucinda's preference for thick, elaborate gold bracelets would not be good for her thin wrists. Holding up her dress and hurrying back to the attic, this time she carefully stepped on her small, shabby stool and felt along the top of her wardrobe. As she expected, she found the small box – another treasure her mother had left her, the most perfect pair of dainty glass heels she had ever seen. It was not true glass, for glass would break – it was some kind of hard, transparent crystal with a clear finish that gave it the sparkle of glass. It fit her feet perfectly. She would be wearing this for all three nights.

She walked confidently and surely down the attic stairs – ever since she became aware of the ball, she had been practicing moving in heels at night, when everyone else was asleep. The constant practice was paying off since she was now able to balance enough to actually dance in these shoes. With these shoes, she was ready enough for the ball – she just had to get to the palace now, and there was no way she was going to walk up the hill, even if the manor was not very far away from where the ball was. She supposed she could always go to the nearest manor with a waiting coach.

Surely they would not turn away a girl in need. She would simply have to act helpless if they were uncertain about giving her a ride. Besides, she mused, she was lovely enough that people wouldn't just pass her by. Someone would, out of curiosity, no doubt agree to send her to the ball.

* * *

It had taken her four attempts. After leaving the manor, she walked over to the house opposite. However, they had many daughters, and their carriage was full. The second attempt led to a similar result, and the third one belonged to an old man who looked at her a little too strangely for her liking, so she politely declined his offer and, with rising desperation, looked for another carriage.

Finally, the fourth noble family only had one son and his mother attending the ball, so they gladly gave her a ride. She told them that her family was impatient and had set off without her while she was bathing, leading to her embarrassing solicitation of free carriage rides up to the palace. The son, who was a pleasant young man, told her that she would be free to join him for the next two nights if she wished, and for any time after the ball too if she wanted. She accepted his offer, tittering politely while his mother watched them, pleased, and promised to think about his other suggestion.

They reached the palace quickly, and he helped her down onto the grass. After he helped her down from the carriage, he kissed the back of her hand – he was one of the many nobles who resided near the palace – and said, if she wished for a dance partner, he would gladly be hers. Again, she simply said she would think about it, making no promises – he was a nice man, but the only person she wanted to attract tonight was the prince. The word of another noble family may not be enough to crush her stepsisters – through their mother, they were now part of her family, the Hatsunes, and her family was so prestigious that some time in the past, they were actually in line to the throne. However, for all their prestige, the stepsisters could not possibly defy the will of the prince.

She walked down the pathway towards the palace. The main doors were open, and guests were pouring in, an unending stream of people. The servants were there, giving directions and attending to the nobility as well. One of the servants, a girl with green hair combed back neatly into a bun and sharp green eyes, told her that the ballroom was down the main passage, followed by a turn to the right. "Just follow the gaggle of excited girls, and you'll know you're there," she added, clearly getting a little impatient with the noise though she strove to maintain her respectful demeanour. Hiding a smile, Miku nodded and set off, though with such a crowd to follow she hadn't really needed the directions.

The ballroom came into sight soon enough, the tall, imposing grand doors swung wide open for the guests. Music was coming out from the open doors, music she could hear even before she turned to the right – it was the harmony of an entire orchestra, and she smiled for they were playing one of her favourite ballroom pieces. She wished she could dance here, right now, but knew she had to meet the prince first before she started really enjoying herself. Miku liked to dance, dancing being one of the only activities as an aristocratic child she had really loved. The rest of her subjects, like playing the piano and learning languages and the arts and knitting and needlework – she learned them because she had no choice. But dancing, she threw herself into with delighted fervour.

She entered the ballroom. The place was festive – no one was dancing yet, since the prince had not led the dance, but there were couples chattering and groups talking to each other all over the room. To one side of the large, grand ballroom, a whole buffet was spread out, with delicious looking finger foods and snacks spread out in a colourful, delightful array. Servers were walking in between the guests, offering wine and other finger foods on silver platters. On the other end of the room, the orchestra played, the conductor passionate before them. Some curious guests were observing.

Miku tore her eyes away from the festivities, searching for the prince. She found him before long – she knew straightaway that the boy at the side of the room was the prince, not because she knew what he looked like because she had never seen him before tonight, but rather because of the long line of excited girls queueing up before him, clearly waiting to introduce themselves. She decided that there was no harm in introducing herself as well, so she went to join the queue.

As she crossed the ballroom, all eyes turned to her. She didn't miss the glances, but did not show any sign of noticing the curious, longing looks – the people whispering among themselves, wondering who she was. Of course they would wonder. Hatsune Miku had not been seen in society for six years. She actually wondered what people thought had happened to her sometimes, but this was the first time it hit her so truly – the knowledge that people had completely no idea who she was. What should she introduce herself as? She knew she could not call herself Hatsune Miku at this ball, since her stepsisters and stepmother were here. She panicked – so what should she call herself?

The queue, though long, moved surprisingly quickly, and by the time she was the next person to greet the prince, she still had not thought of a good name. Every name she thought of, she shot down – too mainstream, too generic, too bratty, too unbecoming of aristocracy. She could hear the girls before her chattering excitedly while she nervously brainstormed, talking about how charming the prince was, how handsome he was, how he seemed to linger with her a little longer – but no, he smiled at _her_ , she would have a chance – and another girl claiming that he almost kissed her. The air around her was feverish with excitement, yet she felt suddenly, strangely removed from it all. Because who was she? Who was the girl standing here, participating in these activities? What was her name?

She moved forward, and her gaze fell upon the prince. She had seen him earlier, when she came into the ballroom, but had not gotten a very clear glimpse since he was surrounded by so many girls at that time, plus he was standing a little too far for her to see him clearly. Now, she saw him, and she realised belatedly that true to what all the girls were saying, he was really very handsome. She was wondering if they were all exaggerating, for the girls she heard compared him to an angel, with his heavenly beauty – some said he had to be God's beloved, for no mere mortal was that beautiful. All mere exaggerations, she assumed – but he really was rather handsome, she could not deny that.

He seemed like the typical Prince Charming, with his flaxen hair and deep blue eyes. He had eyes like twin pools of water – one could not tell how deep they were, and if you tried to find out, you could very well fall into his eyes and drown. His blond hair was tied loosely into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck. She looked away from his most noticeable features, the eyes and the hair, and looked at his face as a whole – or at least as whole as it could get, given that he was wearing a mask over the upper half of his face, much like everyone else attending the ball. He was remarkably stunning, with those slanted eyes she could just barely make out through the mask, and defined cheekbones, as well as those slightly too-pouty lips. He looked almost feminine, and she would have called him pretty rather than handsome were it not for the determined set of his jaw.

Well, that and the fact that even while she was in heels, he stood almost an entire head taller than her. Besides his height and the air of masculinity that surrounded him, he would look decidedly girly. "Good evening, Prince…Romeo," she realised belatedly as well that she did not know his name, and simply used the nickname that all the girls in front of her were calling him. "My name is…Cinderella, and it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," she curtseyed before him, secretly scolding herself for choosing such a name to introduce herself with. He was going to think she was playing a prank on him, and if he was not the kind to react well to a joke…this was not the impression she wanted to make. But she had been desperate, and simply latched onto the first name which came to mind.

When she looked up from her curtsey, the prince was staring at her with a look of disbelief on his face. "Are you playing me for a fool? Your name is _Cinderella_?" he asked. His voice was smooth like honey, and rather pleasant to listen to. She would have liked hearing his voice were it not for the words he was saying. "I suppose you thought it was funny that people call me Romeo. Perhaps claiming that you were Juliet would have had better effect," his lips curved into a small smile. She was not sure if he really found her funny or if he was simply mocking her. Probably the latter.

"My name really is Cinderella," she decided if she was going to lie, she would just lie all the way. "My parents had a penchant for fairy tales, and decided they would name their first daughter after their favourite storybook princess. I have long gotten used to people making fun of my name, so it is fine if you wish to laugh as well, Prince _Romeo_ ," she had not intended for her tone to become sarcastic. It was an automatic reaction – her way of defending herself whenever Anastasia mocked her or when Lucinda told her she was pathetic and useless. She looked down immediately, concerned. Would she be punished for her insolence? This was most definitely not the impression she wanted to make.

She felt fingers tilt her chin up, and she gasped, instinctively trying to flinch away. He did not let go, his narrowed eyes watching her carefully as he tilted her head from one side to the other. What he was looking for, she did not know, and was tempted to ask him to get his hands off her. She would have said so too, if her future did not hinge so desperately on this ridiculous plan she came up with. She had to make the prince fall in love with her. If she didn't, she would be stuck in the manor for a long, long time – not forever, but long enough to possibly drive her insane, and she didn't want that.

"Cinderella, you say?" the prince finally said, studying her intently. She was on the verge of panic, because it felt like an awfully long time had passed since she first came up to him to introduce herself. Usually, the queue moved quickly, but she had been standing here for quite a while, and she could hear discontented mutters starting up behind her. "I don't believe that's your real name for an instant, just as how you surely do not believe my name is Romeo," he let go of her, and she stepped back at once, an instinctive reaction. She resisted the urge to glare down at her feet, instead looking right back at him as he attempted to intimidate her – or at least, she assumed that was what he was doing, because why else would he keep staring at her this way? "If you tell me your real name, then I might tell you mine," he offered, much to her surprise. She stared at him, and he smiled back.

It was a real smile. She had not seen him smile like this at all while she queued. He did smile, and it was usually a very polite smile, one that was cordial and hid his true feelings. But for this smile, she could practically feel the amusement emanating from him in waves. Hastily, she shook her head, and then caught herself – had she just said no to the prince? Nervously, she glanced at him, and his gaze had darkened. That strange smile was no longer on his face. She swallowed. Yes, she was definitely making an impression, but she was fairly certain that it wasn't a very good kind of impression.

Suddenly, he held out his hand. "Dance with me," he said, and it sounded like an order rather than a request. The girls behind her gasped and muttered, talking among themselves, and she shook her head, backing away slightly. This had been a bad idea from the start. She should have done more research on the prince himself, but she had foolishly expected him to be like most of the other male nobles her age – shallow, playful and generous with their spending. From what she saw, the prince was not playful. In fact, he seemed almost dangerous. His cordiality may have fooled the other girls who came before her, but she could see in the grim set of his mouth that he was not exactly kind, nor was he really very nice. He only acted like that because he was the prince. She _knew_.

"You are not allowed to refuse," he said calmly, taking her rejection perfectly well. "I'm the prince and the birthday boy – you're at my ball. If I ask you to dance, it would be rude to reject – but shall I rephrase my words? Please dance with me, _Cinderella_ ," he emphasised the name she had given him, and the whole time he spoke his gaze never left hers. She struggled to come up with an excuse.

"The other girls behind me have already been awaiting their turn for quite some time," she finally spoke. She did not particularly care about the other girls – she was only at this ball to serve her own ends – but she thought that this would be the perfect excuse. It allowed her to reject his offer, while sounding perfectly civil and concerned about others. She would seem like a good little girl. Maybe the prince would stop focusing on her if she seemed like any ordinary noblewoman. She knew, from the very bottom of her heart, that he was not asking her to dance because he was attracted to her.

"They can wait a little longer," he glanced behind her, gaze clearly quite uninterested. "I am tired of seeing an endless array of faces, and I wish simply to enjoy a dance with a lovely girl. Will you not grant me my wish?" his blue eyes looked right into hers, gaze penetrating. She wished she could protest – she wanted to say that she was definitely not a lovely girl – but the longer she struggled to come up with a reply, the longer he waited. His eyes narrowed at her, and despite the smile on his face, she saw the warning in his expression – that she better just take his hand and dance. She didn't want to know what the consequences of rejecting him would be, so resignedly she took hold of his hand. The moment their skin touched, he smiled peacefully. "See how simple it is, _Cinderella_?"

He was still putting emphasis on her name, so she knew he did not believe her. Of course, that was only to be expected, since how many people actually did have Cinderella as a name? However, as he swept her towards the centre of the ballroom, leaving behind a queue of angry girls, she wanted to cringe away from him, and from all the eyes she could feel watching her. She had the vague sense that she was now caught up in something bigger than herself, but she still hoped that she would be able to wriggle her way out of it, somehow. The prince would surely lose interest in her before long.


	3. Chapter 3

The moment everyone noticed he was holding the hand of a girl, the whole ballroom seemed to shush, all the guests turning to look at him. He smiled pleasantly back at them, firmly holding on to the girl's hand. He could feel her trying to squirm free of his hold, and he tightened his grip.

The orchestra started playing a different song now – an old waltz. He could remember the steps like he remembered the back of his hand, and he led the strange girl to the centre of the floor, getting into position with his left arm outstretched and his right hand placed against the small of her back. Reluctantly, she placed her free hand on his shoulder, and so the dance began.

At first, for a while, as was custom, the prince led the dance. This girl who claimed to be called Cinderella was a good dancer, and she kept up with him easily, which impressed him somewhat. Slowly, gradually, she started to relax – her fingers no longer dug _quite_ so painfully into his skin, and a slow smile crept over her face. One by one, other couples came to join them on the floor, and when it was crowded enough, he decided that he should be able to talk to her without anyone else overhearing them. There was enough gossip floating around regarding him finding a fiancée at the ball – he especially did not want people to assume that there was anything between him and this girl simply because of the topics they might possibly be discussing.

The girl looked like she was enjoying herself. "So you like dancing then, Cinderella?" the name rolled easily off his tongue, and he smiled, amused. She glanced up at him at the sound of the name, her own smile wiped off her face. In all honesty, he was glad that he ran into this girl tonight at the ball. He was entirely prepared to last through three nights of pointless small talk and cordial greetings with girls who interested him not the slightest. He did not know of this particular girl's intentions yet, but her attempt at distinguishing herself from the other girls was entertaining enough in itself. He wanted to know what else she would come up with.

"Somewhat," she answered carefully, saying nothing else. He observed her, with her pink-tinted cheeks and the fierce green eyes he could see, glaring out at him from underneath her mask. Another thing that interested him was how she did not seem to grovel before him for his attention. It was surely a facade – maybe she thought that would interest him more – but sadly, he had to admit that it was working. It was the first time a girl had shown a lack of interest in him, after all. Even if they did not find him extremely handsome, girls flocked to him due to his status as royalty. It was a bitter thought to consider, knowing that the aristocracy saw him as nothing but a ladder to climb in society.

"Only somewhat? You could fool me. A lovely girl who can dance so well must surely enjoy dancing with a passion," he answered slyly, and she did not answer, simply averting her gaze and concentrating on the movements of her feet. The mask she wore looked somewhat like his, he noticed belatedly – where her mask was pure white, his was jet black, though they both had the same crystal shaped teardrops at one corner of the mask. "Perhaps we got our masks from the same vendor," he pointed out casually. "They look rather similar, don't you agree?" at which she simply nodded. He wondered if she really was not interested in speaking with him, or if she was just playing hard to get. He hoped it was the former, because he would like to rise to such a challenge.

She was a beautiful girl. For all his claims of not being interested in women at the moment, her beauty was not something he could deny. He would bet that underneath that mask, she was absolutely stunning – one could tell by the pout of her lips and the long eyelashes he could just barely make out underneath the mask, that this girl was probably very feminine in her appearance. Her long hair – teal, a rather strange colour but still very enchanting – was twisted up in a simple bun, which he liked much better than the ridiculously intricate hairstyles some of the other girls were wearing. One girl he greeted earlier, younger than him, had been wearing a horribly garish ruffled pink dress which looked heavy and difficult to walk in, and wore her bright red hair in a thick mass of braids that combined to form some warped kind of beehive. It was abhorrent, but being the prince he was, he tactfully said nothing about her strange appearance, merely wishing her a good time at the ball. He had already forgotten that girl's name…and the names of most of the others too.

"I do wish you'd take off this mask for me," he leant close to her during a particularly slow dance, whispering into her ear. Up till that point the both of them had not said anything, and if it wasn't for the fact she was still moving her feet he might have thought she had fallen asleep. She jumped a little at the suddenness of his words, leaning subtly away from him. She seemed uncomfortable.

"And why would you want me to do that, prince?" she asked. "This is a masquerade ball, isn't it? The fun of the night will disappear the instant the masks are taken off our faces," she was smart and came up with a good response to his words, rather than just laughing and tittering like most other aristocratic girls would. He found that refreshing. "I might take off my mask if you take yours off," she suddenly suggested boldly, mirroring what he told her earlier in the evening. He laughed quietly at her idea.

"But like what you said, the magic of the night will dissolve the moment I take my mask off. Besides, don't you already know what Prince Romeo looks like?" he used the name mockingly. Most of the people in the kingdom either did not know his real name, or forgot what it was. Romeo was, after all, so much catchier than Kagamine Len. His real name was a mouthful to pronounce, so Romeo became his trademark, though he disliked being known by that moniker. It was difficult to change the mind-set of the people, however, so after a while he just gave up trying to get people to call him by his real name. The palace servants, however, were strictly forbidden from calling him Prince Romeo.

"No, I don't," she answered, much to his surprise. It surprised him even more that he did not suspect her of lying, but she sounded genuine. "I was raised in a faraway land," she explained, "and I only came here recently, to live with my aunt. She received the invitation to your ball and asked if I would like to attend as well. I agreed, so here I am," she sounded uncomfortable again. "I can safely assure you that I know very little about you, other than the fact you're a prince, so it makes me wonder why you chose to dance with me, of all girls. There are many other ladies still awaiting their turn to introduce themselves, and perhaps have a dance with you as well," she said delicately.

"But they do not interest me," he replied just as delicately. He watched her lips press themselves into a grimace, secretly amused by her reactions to what he said. She was entertaining, and most unlike many other noble ladies he knew. That was probably explained by her being raised in a different land – perhaps they had different customs for interacting with royalty, but he was secretly glad that she was not stiff, formal and nervous like so many people were when they spoke to him.

He was beginning to take quite the shine to her. His father's words ran through his mind – he ought to find a companion, if not a lover. At least someone whom he could talk to, and wasn't one of the castle servants. Then perhaps he would not be so lonely, and maybe he would pine a little less, though he wasn't really sure if he wanted to stop pining yet. "Cinderella, if that is really your name," he started, "I do tire of dancing. Would you like to walk in the rose gardens with me?" he smiled charmingly at her, hoping that his smile would be able to coax the reluctant girl into spending more time with him. "The roses are in bloom now, and the garden smells lovely. It is a rare opportunity to take a look deeper into the palace grounds," he added, surely a boon for a foreigner like her.

She hesitated. The two of them had stopped dancing now, and as the orchestra switched to a song with a fast tempo, the dancing couples around them picked up the pace too, swirling and turning around them. They were like the eye of a tornado, the calm in the centre of the maelstrom. She looked up at him, and he wondered what she was thinking – he was usually pretty good at guessing the thoughts of other people, but with the mask in the way, he had no idea what was going through her mind. He hoped she would say yes, because it was true that he did tire of this ball and wanted to get out and enjoy some peace and quiet. Finally, she nodded, though she still looked somewhat suspicious.

He took her by the hand and led her out of the ballroom. Gumi, who was stationed outside the ballroom doors, looked quizzically at him as he led the mysterious girl outside, but he put a finger to his lips and she nodded, glancing at the masked girl curiously. He honestly still did not believe she was called Cinderella, but until she was willing to divulge her true name, that was what he would use to refer to her by. "Tell Father that I'm with someone, if he happens to ask," he said quietly to Gumi, who nodded and simply waved him on his way. He smiled, tugging the girl by her hand out towards the rose gardens, which were right at the very back of the palace grounds.

Miku was genuinely wondering what she had gotten herself into. She was wondering whether she should reconsider her plan, because the prince she met here was sardonic and mocking and she was aware that it would not be easy as she thought to manipulate him. Whoever he was, he was rather observant and knowing, and it would be hard to convince him to marry her just because she was beautiful, like she was originally planning to do. And, if they really married and she was taken into the royal family, how would she then escape the palace and seek her fortune from there? These were all uncomfortable considerations which were now blossoming into mind. She chewed on her lip.

Should she carry on with her plan? She knew that she wanted to get out of the manor as soon as possible, and marriage was the fastest way to do so. If she was lucky, if things went well like how they seemed to be now, it was entirely possible that she could get out of her prison within a week, at most. Her main concern was whether she would be jumping out of the frying pan into the fire, however. She had been looking for someone she could easily manipulate into doing her bidding and setting her free – preferably after giving her some money so she could be on her way – just like how she envisioned most noblemen to be. She was not expecting someone with sharp blue eyes and a sly smile, not like this particular prince. He shared too many similarities to her conniving self for her to feel comfortable around him. If she were to marry him, it was unlikely she would ever get away.

As she thought to herself, balancing the pros and cons of marrying into the royal family – it basically boiled down to getting away from the manor versus being the prince's reluctant wife – the prince led her to the rose garden he spoke of. He pulled her out into the night air, and she gasped as her nose was hit instantly by the intoxicating smell of hundreds and hundreds of roses, stretching out as far as the eye could see. Some of them twined elegantly over pillars, some of them spread their thorny branches gracefully into the air, their bushes neatly pruned and trimmed. The roses all looked black in the night, and a dark red where the moonlight shone across them. It was absolutely stunning.

"It looks gorgeous enough in the day," the prince mused beside her, "but at night it holds a very enchanting kind of loveliness that few people have the privilege to witness. You're one of them; you should feel very blessed," she let his cockiness slide, she was so in awe of the rose gardens. She had heard rumours that the palace had lovely gardens of course – Anastasia mentioned it casually once when she started getting interested in flower patterns – but she never thought it would be this beautiful. The last time she saw a rose garden was when she was a child. Her family's summer home had a rose garden nearby…she winced, willing herself to forget about that memory for now.

He did not notice her wince, thankfully, because she didn't want to explain her strange reaction to the gardens. "Yes, it is stunning," she turned to him, agreeing with what he said. The fragrance in the night air was almost intoxicating, and she could feel her lips turn up into a smile as she inhaled the perfume of all these lovely red blooms. "I would like to see it in the daytime. I think, with this wonderful fragrance in the air, the beauty of the roses would be enhanced and the sight would be no doubt memorable," she meant every word she said. Though she was still uneasy about the prince and his intentions, this garden was beautiful. She could tell that plenty of effort had been put in to keep this place nice and relatively tidy. The hedges and lawn seemed perfectly trimmed, after all. The rosebushes were slightly messy, but in a deliberate sort of way, drawing attention to the lovely blooms open wide at the top of each bush. She was tempted to reach out and pluck one rose.

As if he could read her mind, the prince did exactly as she wished, stepping out into the centre of the garden and plucking one of the flowers from the rosebushes. He returned to her, fingers delicately holding on to the blooming flower – she could smell the perfume of the rose getting stronger as he walked back – and, without any fanciful words or gestures, he simply tucked the rose into her teal hair. She stared up at him, wondering what his intentions were, and he let his hands fall down to his sides, returning her gaze just as intently. She could just barely make out his eyes in the darkness, the moonlight providing some illumination by which to see. "Only the most beautiful flower would suit such a lovely lady," he finally said, though she could hear the smirk present in his words.

"I'm surprised you would think I am lovely," she answered politely, though she was starting to think that the prince should work harder on his attempts at flirting, since she was rather unimpressed. "After all, you do not know what I look like. For all you know, underneath this mask I could look like an absolute hag. It would be best to reserve your judgement about me for now, Prince Romeo," she bowed her head. Some little part of herself was asking her what she was doing – she was supposed to seduce the prince and convince him to marry her. Why was she acting like she was completely disinterested in him, or even worse, seemingly trying to prevent him from being interested in her?

"Loveliness does not have to be solely about appearances," he smiled, probably in an attempt to be charming. She could see the curve of his lips in the moonlight. "It could be about character and strength of mind as easily as it could be about your eyes, your face or your lips. Loveliness encompasses many different aspects, my dear Cinderella," when he said her name, it rolled off his tongue like velvet chocolate. She actually quite liked the way he said 'Cinderella' – it was just a pity that she despised the name, and would not be referring to herself by that name if it weren't for the fact that her stepfamily was present at the ball as well. "And I can tell that you are a lovely person. I must admit, I am rather interested in you."

Her heartbeat sped up. Here was her chance. She was rather startled that her idea actually worked, and that the prince did seem to take a shine to her despite them starting off on the wrong foot, but she was slightly suspicious of his intentions still. There was just something about the way he spoke, something about the way he smiled, which made her think that he might not be planning what she was hoping for. "Perhaps I am not interested in you, however," she tried not to sound disrespectful, but there was no way she could say such a phrase without sounding completely ungracious. He did not react negatively in any way, however, further strengthening her suspicions.

"If you aren't interested in me romantically, then that would be simply wonderful," he declared, much to her surprise. "You see, despite what most people assume, I am not here tonight to look for a bride or fiancée," his voice dripped with distaste. "I am only here to find, at the very most, a companion. Someone who is willing to spend time with me and talk to me, and listen to what I have to say. Since you are not from these parts," he met her gaze, staring down intently at her, "then it is unlikely that you know. I was an adopted prince, and three years ago…I had a fiancée," his voice shook slightly here, but he quickly regained his composure. "I am not yet ready for another bride, unfortunately for the many noble ladies at the ball tonight. However, since you are not interested in becoming my wife, then perhaps becoming my companion is something you could consider," he awaited her response to his proposal.

She was honestly stunned. She was expecting, throughout the formulation of her grand plan, to get a proposal. Then she would marry the prince and be free of the stepsisters forever. However, she did not end up with a proposal, at least not the type which she had envisioned. Here, the prince was giving her the offer of companionship, to let her keep him company as a friend instead of as a lover. It sounded much more appealing to her, to tell the truth. "You can even move into the palace if you want, we have plenty of guest rooms," the prince added, once again as though he could sense her thoughts. "Then you can see the rose garden in the daytime, as you wished you could just now. If you were to agree to this, I would be very excited about this arrangement, given that you are rather witty and it is a pleasure talking to you, despite your unfortunate choice of moniker. I do hope you will consider this well."

This made things even better. She could move into the palace! She would still be free to leave the manor! But a nagging doubt came to mind – if she was merely the prince's companion, would her stepsisters manage to find a way to get her back into their clutches? She knew for marriage, they would have no chance to do such a thing – marriage was lawfully binding, and if she was married to the prince, there was no way they could touch the prince's lawfully wedded wife. On the other hand, as the companion to the prince…technically, she would still be a Hatsune, and still be tied to her ancestral home, the manor. The stepsisters might argue their case in such a way that she would be forced to return home from the palace, even against the royal family's will – for, despite their power, they could not overrule the law. Their kingdom was fair and just; there were rarely exceptions made for the royalty, and she was definitely not important enough to warrant such an exception.

"I don't think my aunt would allow such an arrangement, unfortunately," she replied, giving her words much careful consideration. "You see, my mother sent me to my aunt with the strict instructions that I am to live under her roof. As part of their noble family, I must obey that rule and live within the family manor," she paused. The prince was listening intently to her. "I would love to move to the palace, I really would – it seems like a lovely place to stay in. But I fear that if I were to stay here, my aunt and mother would start a lawsuit to claim the rights to me, and where I stay. It would be messy and troublesome, and entirely too much fuss. I cannot bear the thought of so much trouble," she admitted, wishing she could say yes instead. However, she could not be careless. There was no way she could agree to anything other than a fool-proof plan, because once Anastasia and Lucinda realised she escaped and managed, somehow, to get her back, she knew she would never see the daylight again.

The prince frowned. "That is unfortunate…" he sounded wistful. "I was hoping that I could find someone else to talk to, besides the servants or the sycophantic nobles who flock to the palace almost daily, hoping to seek my father's favour. You seem like a terribly genuine person, Cinderella, were it not for the fact that your very name and person is built on a story," again, he sounded rather amused. She was somewhat regretting her decision to name herself Cinderella now, since he seemed to find endless enjoyment from picking on her nickname. She was tempted to speak sarcastically of his name as well, but held her tongue – there were still two more nights to the ball, two more nights to perhaps change the prince's mind. He could still be of use to her. It would be better not to destroy the…bond? Or relationship, that she had built with the prince so far.

"Perhaps you will find someone else at the ball who can be your willing companion," she suggested. Of course, she didn't want him to do that, because if he really found another girl then all hopes of her fleeing would be flushed down the drain. To her relief however, he shook his head, rejecting her suggestion even before she finished speaking. Was she really that unique to the prince? That gave her some hope that there was still something she could do regarding her situation.

"I know what most noblewomen are like. You are a rare find – my age, is it? I am eighteen years old, and I assume you are somewhere around that age as well. You are witty and sharp, which I really do appreciate – it is hard to find someone with which one can banter nowadays. And what's more, if my suspicions are right and my curiosity ever, one day, satisfied, you have a lovely face hidden away underneath that infernal mask. I am rather determined to one day unmask you, dear Cinderella," he smiled knowingly at her. She, on the other hand, heard a threat rather than a compliment.

"I'd like to keep my mask on, it makes me feel safer from the attentions of men," she retorted, forcing herself to return his smile as she did so. "I think it is time I went back to the ball. Have a good night, prince," she curtseyed once more, feeling rather satisfied with the progress she made with the prince on the night of the first ball. Already, they were on speaking terms, and he offered her a chance to stay in the palace and be his companion. In the next two nights, perhaps she could change his mind about not wanting to find a fiancée…some part of her doubted she could do so, after hearing what he said about not being ready for another relationship so soon, but she figured that it would not hurt to try. At most, on the third day she would accept his offer of companionship and pray hard that the stepsisters were not bright enough to claim she belonged back in the manor.

"Hold on, you don't need to leave so hastily," the prince called out, interrupting her departure. She paused and looked around, wondering what more he had left to say to her. He was walking up to her, and upon reaching her, he took hold of her hand, bending down so that he could brush his lips against the back of her hand. Her skin tingled where his lips made contact, and instinctively she snatched her hand away. He looked up at her, one eyebrow raised. "Do you not like my farewell?" he asked, sounding almost displeased. She shook her head hastily – no, it was not that. "Then why do you remove your hand as though I am some kind of repulsive creature?" he asked, this time with a tinge of amusement in his words. She did not know how to answer, so she merely remained where she stood, silent and unspeaking. "You foreigners are strange," he finally said, shaking his head. "I can't tell what you're thinking, whether you approve of what I do or not. But I would like to know one thing, Cinderella," his gaze met hers, "would you be attending the ball again tomorrow night?"

She nodded, and he appeared to be relieved. "Then that is good, I'll have a reason to attend the ball tomorrow night that isn't just about avoiding my father's lectures. I look forward to seeing you there then, Cinderella," he bowed to her politely. "Tomorrow, if you are keen on seeing me again, perhaps you could wait at the potted plant between the orchestra and the corner of the room. I will look for you there, and pray hard that I will get to see even just a fleeting glimpse of your lovely face," she was rather sure that he was obligated to say all these flowery compliments to her because he was the prince, but it was nice to be spoken to this way, nevertheless. She agreed to his plan, knowing she would have to think of ways to nudge him towards suggesting marriage tomorrow, before turning around and heading back towards the ballroom. From there, she would leave the palace. Her audience with the prince was concluded, so her reason for attending tonight's ball was exhausted as well. She should go home and clean Anastasia's dresser, as well as prepare supper like the obedient servant she was. That way, she would be free to attend the ball again tomorrow night.

Len watched the mysterious girl leave, almost painfully curious about her now. She had rejected his offer of companionship, something most noble girls would have jumped at – anything for a chance to enter the palace and assume a position of relative importance. This Cinderella girl however, was almost reluctant to spend time with him, and he was starting to see it – see her – as a challenge to be conquered. He wanted to make her fond of him, since right now she seemed not to have any interest in him whatsoever. It was a bad thought to have, since after making her fall for him, he would not be able to marry her since he simply could not force himself to take another bride. But he could not deny that he was intrigued by this girl who treated him not like royalty, but rather as someone who was on the same level as her. She was casual enough without being disrespectful, and since she was not uptight and stuffy like other nobles, she was actually quite the pleasure to speak with.

The rose he plucked for her had suited her hair wonderfully, as he knew it would. The fragrance of the bloom lingered in the air, particularly sweet among the perfume of hundreds of other roses. Her skin, when he kissed her, was soft and smooth, but he thought he felt the slightest, _slightest_ hint of calluses on her palm when he held her hand. Calluses were not something aristocrats were meant to have, especially the ladies, since they did no manual labour. He would have automatically assumed she was a servant who sneaked into the ball, except that her finery, her manners and her dancing were all too impeccable for a mere servant to have accomplished. She was, overall, a very mysterious person, and he liked a good mystery. He decided that he liked this Cinderella girl.

He would make her stay on to be his companion no matter what. If her aunt was the only problem, the only obstacle that barred her from moving into the palace, then he was sure he could work something out with the girl's aunt. He was royalty, after all. He wanted to know more about this girl – the way she thought, her mannerisms, her wittiness and remarks, and most of all, what she would look like underneath the mask. He wanted to know her face, and he wanted to know her real name. She was a person covered in masks, and he intended to unmask her true identity and find out who she truly was. Thankfully she was coming tomorrow, so he would have more opportunities to talk to her.

It had been a long time since he last encountered someone who interested him enough to make him actually _want_ to talk to them. He thought that perhaps, his life would make a change for the better. It might stop being the mundane affair it usually was – perhaps Cinderella would bring some spark to his dreary existence. It was too early to say now, since they were barely even acquaintances at the moment, but he already suspected that if given the chance, she would grow to become a very dear friend.


	4. Chapter 4

She got the supper ready, and made sure that Lucinda and Anastasia's rooms were spick-and-span, without a single speck of dust in sight. She was just leaving Anastasia's room when she heard the front doors open, and knew that the trio must be back from the prince's ball.

"I wonder who that girl is," Lucinda could be heard jabbering from downstairs, as Miku made her way down to the parlour. "She was the only person he danced with all night, and after she mysteriously disappeared, the prince didn't dance with anyone else. Where did she go?" Lucinda looked frustrated now, carelessly taking the pins holding her elaborate hairstyle in place out of her hair. Anastasia was ignoring Lucinda, whereas their mother just nodded helplessly, not knowing how to get away from her youngest daughter when she was so irate. Miku cleared her throat.

"Supper is ready, and I've left it on the kitchen table. Some bread with butter and a chunk of cheese. We're running out of food in the pantry," she said politely, not daring to cross the stepsisters in any way. She had to be free to leave the house the next two nights. Anastasia nodded absently, taking her hair out of its bun, while Lucinda seemed to be distracted from her tirade by the mention of food. However, as the younger stepsister bounced past Miku towards the kitchen, she stopped and stared hard at her, or specifically at her teal hair. Miku swallowed, feeling a little nervous.

"You know, there was this girl at the ball," Lucinda adopted the imperious way of speaking she had when talking specifically to her. "She has the same kind of teal hair as you, you freak – but she's much prettier than you can ever hope to be. You're filthy and covered in grime," Lucinda's gaze roamed over her in distaste. Miku had specially taken the ashes from the fireplace and smeared them over her skin so that she would no longer look so suspiciously clean. It pained her to do so, but this was the only way she could avoid Anastasia and Lucinda's suspicions – she knew from the start that her teal hair was painfully prominent, so she had to take measures to protect herself.

"Perhaps it's a sign that one day I might be beautiful," she answered, toning down the flippancy though she wished she could say something more sarcastic. Lucinda merely rolled her eyes, clearly contemptuous, and went on her way to the kitchen. Anastasia went to seat herself on a chair, her brown hair falling in loose waves down her back, while their mother just proceeded to go back to her room as usual. She gave Miku a lingering look as she walked past her, which Miku avoided, and after a while the woman left and the penetrating stare was gone. Miku could not help but wonder if her stepmother had seen the mysterious girl at the ball, and suspected that it was her – she always felt that out of the three women now dominating her household, her stepmother was the smartest.

"I will be checking my dresser later for any dirt or uncleanliness. I do hope that you recall what I said to you before we left," Anastasia sniffed, sending her a haughty look. "I was wondering on the way home from the ball if I should just lock the manor doors so that you can't leave the house. That way you would have no choice but to focus on cleaning, instead of sneaking out to walk around in the gardens as you normally do – luckily for you, Mother convinced me not to do so. She seems to be almost fond of you, I don't understand why," she sniffed again. Miku seethed with rage – was it not bad enough that she was always stuck in the manor grounds? Now, Anastasia was threatening to confine her to the walls of the house as well. But she stuck a simpering smile on her face, knowing that any misstep for the next two days would mean an instant, week-long stay in the cellar.

"Oh, I'm so thankful to you and Stepmother for your benevolence," her hand fluttered up, lingering over her chest in a show of gratitude. "If I were cooped up in the house all day, it would drive me mad, and I'm so glad this isn't the case," she curtseyed. It was sickening, honestly, but she told herself that she only had to suck up to them until she was free. Once the prince invited her to stay in the palace, once she accepted his offer, she would be free. And she would no longer have to give them any face – in fact, she would be able to insult them and mock them all she wished, and they would no longer be able to retaliate with physical or mental punishment. It was a pleasant prospect.

Anastasia narrowed her eyes at her. "You sound rather sarcastic, Cinderella," she remarked. "I must wonder whether you really mean what you say, or whether you're just secretly trying to spite me. But I'll let that pass since Mother asked on your behalf," she looked away from her with a bored sigh, shaking out her long hair. "Now get out of my sight, you annoy me. You remind me entirely too much of that strange girl with teal hair. Lucinda was harping on and on about her all night – I might have thought you're that girl, in fact, if it weren't for the fact you were at home preparing supper."

She hid a smile, just nodding and leaving. Once she was out of the parlour, she started to giggle to herself, satisfied that her ploy had worked. It was a good thing that the stepsisters only hired day servants – she was the only _permanent_ servant in the manor, the others all went home after their afternoon duties were done. The servants were loyal to whoever paid them, so if there had been any who worked at night like her, her plan would have failed for the servants would no doubt inform Anastasia and Lucinda about her misdeeds. As it was, only she knew everything, and it felt good to be in some way superior to her stepsisters. She would ensure that her ploy worked the next two nights as well.

She would need to find a better way to hide her teal hair, however. It was much too distinctive. She frowned, placing a finger against her lips as she thought – but then the prince also identified her by her teal hair. She was just concerned that the stepsisters would suspect the teal haired girl at the ball was her, and lock her in the mansion to see if their theory was correct. Perhaps, instead of trying to disguise her hair, she should try to set up an alibi for herself. She smiled – one of the house servants was her friend, and perhaps the two of them would be able to work something out…

* * *

The second day passed by quickly, and before long Anastasia and Lucinda were once again preparing for the ball. This time, Lucinda was dressed in a slightly better fashion – she was wearing a voluminous dress in a sunny shade of buttercup yellow that didn't clash _too_ badly with her red hair. The hairstyle she wanted, however, made her look like a shepherdess, and not in a charming manner either.

Miku just did what Lucinda wanted, too distracted by her plans to protest against Lucinda's massacre of high fashion – even she, being the imprisoned servant she was, knew what looked good and what did not. Lucinda definitely did not look good. But she kept thinking about her alibi, over and over again, and it distracted her so much that she couldn't be bothered to voice her opinion. She had spoken to her fellow servant earlier – for both nights, _just in case_ Anastasia or Lucinda questioned the other servants about her activities, her friend would claim to have returned at night to pick up something she left behind in the day, and Miku passed the item to her. That should be enough proof that Miku was supposedly home the entire time, and not outside gallivanting around the palace.

She was aware that it was not the best alibi, but it was better than nothing, and anyway it was better to be prepared. She knew that Anastasia and Lucinda were not the sharpest knives in the drawer, but even they were not entirely stupid. Sighing softly to herself, she tied the last braid and patted the loose strands of hair down, standing back so that Lucinda could admire herself in the mirror. "Oh, I look wonderful," she gushed, though Miku begged to differ. "The prince will no doubt notice me tonight. I hope that girl doesn't show up again," a scowl darkened Lucinda's features. "She was terribly selfish, hogging the prince to herself all night like that. I don't know why everyone kept saying she was pretty. It's not like we can see each other's faces after all, at a masquerade ball. People were only blinded by the fact that she was dancing with the prince – I bet if you look closely at her, she isn't all that beautiful," Lucinda sounded bitter. Miku was rather amused, given that she was the girl Lucinda was feeling so upset about, but she didn't let that amusement show.

"Lucinda, you have ten more minutes!" Anastasia's voice came in through the door again, just like yesterday. "Don't be a brat and delay our departure the way you did last night. Mother and I are tired of your ways – you're fifteen already, act like your age," Miku could imagine the disdainful look on Anastasia's face as she spoke. " _Cinderella_ , make sure that Lucinda gets out of her room soon or else _you're_ the one I'll be punishing instead, do you understand me?" before she could respond, she heard the sound of footsteps, indicating that Anastasia had walked away. She gritted her teeth, finding Anastasia's demands to be ridiculously unfair – but then, since when had she ever been just?

Lucinda clearly shared the same views as her on this matter. "She always thinks that just because she's older, she can boss me around!" the redhead fumed. "It doesn't matter that I'm prettier and smarter while she's boring and dreary. It's _true_ that all she's interested in is needlework and stitching. That's why she can't find a fiancé, despite being eighteen and a noble. No one wants to enter any sort of arrangement with a hag like her," Lucinda declared, lightening Miku's mood somewhat. "Now, before I go down to meet Mother and the hag, help me decide which pair of shoes I should wear to the ball," she said haughtily. Miku set to work, not paying much attention since Lucinda wouldn't listen to her recommendations anyway. She couldn't wait for the women to get out of the manor.

Eight pairs of shoes later, Lucinda was ready, and she set off down the stairs to the parlour. Miku followed some distance behind, heard Anastasia say that she just _barely_ made it under the ten minute mark, and then the two sisters and their mother left the manor for the palace. She took a deep breath, suddenly feeling very liberated, and took off to take another quick bath. Naturally, she could not show up to the prince's ball covered in soot and ashes, as she was in her present state.

She ran through the bath faster than yesterday, eager to be on her way. The prince had indicated that he wanted to talk to her again tonight, and she was going to make use of this interest to further her agenda. Drying herself with a spare towel, she rushed back from Lucinda's room to her attic, deciding that she would bypass makeup entirely tonight and go to the ball bare-faced. Her masquerade mask should be enough to cover up any blemishes her lack of makeup happened to expose. She didn't want to bother with the fuss of applying powder and blush, and she got the feeling that the prince wouldn't notice whether or not she wore makeup anyway. Men were rather obtuse, judging from the way Lucinda bemoaned her various love interests in the past. The prince was probably no exception to that, even if he did seem to be remarkably knowing and observant.

The dress she set out for today was a deep, velvety black, trimmed with delicate lace and silk. The low-cut bodice was a tad daring for her, but she liked it because it accentuated her figure and made her look more mature than she really was. Coupled with the simple black mask she set aside for tonight, adorned with a single, blood-red rose, she was quite a striking figure, and she knew she would once again attract plenty of attention. She liked this gown because this was the dress her mother was wearing when she first met her father. It was a love story Miku had grown up listening to, and seeing this dress placed all sorts of romantic notions in her – ideas about meeting her first love, about falling in love and romance and adoration and eternity. Those sentiments, however, were squashed out of her after she hit puberty. Nevertheless, the dress was lovely, and she was fond of it.

She fingered the deep red flower attached to her mask and thought that it might remind the prince of their meeting last night. Perhaps he would interpret this mask as sentiment. This time, she braided her hair, letting the long plait fall over her left shoulder. The shimmering teal was a stark contrast against her pale skin, which was left bare since her gown tonight was worn off the shoulder. The colours were rich and eye-catching – teal, white, scarlet and black. She wished she could have a lacy black fan to complete the look, but since she didn't, she would just attend the ball as she was.

Remembering the offer of the nice young gentleman last night, she set off in the direction of his manor. His carriage was waiting outside his house, and as she approached his manor, she saw him and his mother exiting the manor gates, heading towards the waiting horses. She reached them quickly, greeting the pair, and they returned her greetings with delighted exuberance. The young noble complimented her beauty, and she laughed gently, accepting his compliment with thanks.

The journey towards the palace was filled with more chatter than the previous night, with both mother and son asking her questions about her past now. She gave them the same story she gave the prince last night, about her being a foreigner who came to stay with an aunt. When they asked which aristocrat her aunt was, she smiled demurely and neglected to reply. They respected her need for privacy and stopped questioning her, though she could feel the curious gaze of the older woman upon her the whole trip. Perhaps she was wondering about her identity, and whether the mystery which cloaked her so would be beneficial or harmful to her son. But it didn't matter, because Miku was not particularly interested in romance or marriage at the moment. Even marriage to the prince made way for her greater desire for freedom. Marriage was merely an escape from a greater evil.

She was helped down from the carriage once more by the young noble. His mother, when he was not looking, took the chance to whisper to Miku about how her son had been terribly smitten since last night, when they first met. Again, she laughed politely, not quite knowing how else to react – it was the first time in a long time she entertained confessions of fancy – and told the older woman that she thought he was a nice man. She only meant that as a neutral remark however, and hoped that the woman would not take it as a sign that her son's feelings were returned, for they were not.

The servants situated at the palace doors were not as numerous as the previous night, probably because the royal family assumed that most of the guests should, by now, know the way to the ballroom themselves. Again, Miku spotted the green haired servant who gave her the directions to the ball yesterday, and who was also the same servant the prince spoke to while leading her out to the rose gardens. The servant seemed to recognise her, turning to look at her with a curious expression on her face. Miku nodded towards her in acknowledgement, and the servant smiled, bowing towards her. They did not communicate any further, but Miku felt that it was nice to be remembered by other people in society. She had been shut away from other people for so long that she almost forgot what it was like, to have connections to people who weren't just the house servants or her stepfamily. She felt like a ghost, floating amongst the living, clearly there yet not truly present.

She followed the stream of people to the ballroom. This time, she had to put up with a great deal more staring and muttering than she did last night. Last night, almost no one had noticed her on the way to the ballroom. Today, every few steps she took someone would greet her and ask her for her name, who she was, whether she was interested in the prince – the last question usually came from the ladies. She would answer every question as politely as she could, though the number of times she was asked the same question by jealous aristocrats was beginning to get on her nerves.

Eventually, she made her way to the ballroom, and she was determined to find a corner to hide so that she could avoid being mobbed by all these curious nobles. The men wanted to speak to her, and hoped that she would dance with them. The women simply muttered among themselves, some of them even throwing her dark looks, which she ignored for unlike them, she was not interested in the prince for his money or his power. She wasn't even interested in him for his good looks, though she could not deny his attractiveness. She felt like _her_ need for the prince was, in a way, the most moral. The prince could help her. And, in return, she could help him. She could become his companion, someone to keep him company – she understood the pain of loneliness, because she herself was lonely. But she had never imagined that someone like the prince would ever feel so…alone.

Recalling his strange directions to her – to wait at the pot between the orchestra and the corner of the room – she found the plant which he spoke of, deciding that this spot was also an adequate hiding spot for her to keep out of public eye until the prince came to find her. She was not as keen on dancing tonight as she was yesterday – yes, the music was still delightful, but dancing would probably draw attention to herself, and she was desperately trying to avoid being noticed by other people. The fewer people saw her, the better. She especially didn't want Anastasia or Lucinda to see her again, and start wondering whether she was the mysterious girl. It couldn't be that difficult to put two and two together – after all, how many people in this land actually had teal hair?

"Not going out to dance today?" she whipped around, startled – there the blond haired prince stood, arms folded across his chest, a small smirk on his face. She exhaled – thank goodness it was him, and not some other young man desperate to make her acquaintance. She shook her head, eyeing the floor uneasily – there were many couples dancing there, but she was sure that even among such a crowd, her teal hair would be remarkably distinctive. At least in this corner, she blended in with the plant. "You look lovely tonight," he observed, and she muttered her thanks.

He was, once again, wearing a mask similar to hers. His mask was black too, with a similar rosebud attached to one side, though his rose was black just like the mask itself, while hers was a vivid red, the only pop of colour in her outfit. He was dressed in all black as well, save for one bright spot of red – there was a vivid red bloom attached to his lapel, the only spark of colour in an otherwise dull outfit. "I wonder if you can read my mind," he commented, "for yesterday we wore similar masks, and today this occurs again. Furthermore, you and I are both in black, the colour of power…the colour of death. I wore black to mourn the peaceful life I had before this whole ball business," he shook his head. "I shall not ask you why you chose to wear black to supposedly festive activities, but I'm glad to see that I am not the only person here who's dressed like they're ready to attend a funeral," he grinned.

"Black does not always have to be the colour of mourning," she retorted – his comparison of her black outfit to a funeral was almost offensive, given the memories and sentiments this dress held for her. "Black can be class and elegance, it can even be romantic in the right situation. My mother's favourite colour was black," she informed him, and he raised an eyebrow, looking surprised.

"I see you are passionate about this subject! How fascinating," he nodded, speaking more to himself than to her. "I'd love to see the debates you could have with me – no doubt they would be most interesting. But why is it that you use the past tense, is black no longer your mother's favourite colour?" he tilted his head, a quizzical expression on his face. It was only after he pointed out her slipup that she realised what she had said, and she wracked her brains to think of a solution.

"It still is her favourite colour," she finally came up with an answer that wasn't the truth, "it's just that her fondness for other colours has temporarily eclipsed her love for black. But no matter the current trends or fads, black will always be the colour she returns to. Black is like a safety net – it goes well with most things, and anyway, my mother told me that black held sentimental memories for her," such as this black dress she currently wore being the dress in which she first met her father.

"Women and your fashion trends. These will always be beyond me – what's wrong with simply wearing blacks and whites? Nothing was ever wrong with monochrome colours," he shook his head. "Nowadays, the girls I see are drowning in taffeta and silk, and look like they can hardly walk in those terrible monstrosities they call dresses. I much prefer your style – it is very minimalist, but still very elegant," he reached out to her face, one fingertip brushing lightly against the rose on her mask. Instinctively, she flinched away – he was a stranger, no matter how badly she wanted to get onto his good side – and he noticed that. A strange look flitted across his face, so quickly that she couldn't identify what emotion it was. Then he smiled at her. "Do you want to explore the palace instead?"

"I would like to," she frowned, "but as the prince, I'm sure your job is to stay here and entertain the guests. It's your ball, after all. Are you sure you can just leave whenever you fancy?" he gave her a look that somehow made her feel like she had just said something rather stupid.

"The main purpose of the celebrations, other than to commemorate my eighteenth birthday, is for me to find a bride. At least, that's what my father intends," he reached out past her to touch the flowers on the plant, and she shivered – his arm was near her neck, and she suddenly felt very sensitive towards their close proximity. "Of course, I don't want that. We came to a compromise – I could seek a companion, though I won't necessarily force myself to do so. And now that I've found someone whom I actually want to spend some time with," his gaze lingered curiously upon her, "why should I stay around here and waste my time with shallow, vapid conversation?"

"I don't know, I don't feel comfortable about just…sneaking off like that," she hedged, testing his determination. She wanted to see the lengths to which he would go just to get his way. "My aunt gave me quite a lecture last night after I went to the rose gardens with you. She said that I was supposed to be meeting other noblemen at the ball, not just wandering around the palace and making a fool of myself. She claimed she was unable to find me in the ballroom all evening," she sighed despondently. "I would hate to disappoint my dear aunt again. She wants me to marry a nice young nobleman, and she thinks that not attending the ball would ruin my chances of marriage."

The prince laughed, though the laugh sounded more disbelieving than humorous. "Your aunt is a strange woman to hold such beliefs. You should not have a problem finding a husband, Cinderella – your name is a unique point, and despite what most women believe, many men actually value a sharp, good sense of humour more than they do a pretty face," he plucked one of the flowers off the plant behind her, again tucking the bloom into her teal hair. She stared up at him, wondering what was the point of him doing this to her. "You are both entertaining and a lovely creature," he mused, his hand lingering over the flower, "and trust me, most men at the ball are interested in speaking with you. Since finding suitors for your hand in marriage is not a problem, ball or not, then I invite you to join me. Don't waste your time in boring events like these," his eyes gleamed knowingly.

Did he know that she was bored, that she had little to do here other than focus on his attention? She was not here to enjoy herself, after all – she did not come here to eat and drink and make merry. Playing coy was getting his attention, she felt, but she was afraid that she might push it too far and make him lose interest in her entirely. For now, being hard to get was working, but for how much longer will this method work? "Where do you wish to take me?" she asked. He seemed delighted by the question, clearly having taken it as an agreement to go with him though she said no such thing.

"I will show you the rooms, if you want. The throne room, the guest rooms, the dining hall, perhaps even my room if you so wish," the last suggestion was said slyly, but she didn't know why he wore such a look on his face, so she ignored his tone of voice. "Anything would be better than staying here and talking to people with a smile plastered on my face. You don't know how tiring it is to remember the names of fifty different lords and ladies. After a while, they all start sounding the same to me," he scoffed. "I respect their contributions, I really do, but I'm not in the mood tonight to discuss war and strategy with elderly men. This whole affair is meant to be a celebration, not a tactical meeting."

They had been standing together at the pot for a while now, and she was aware that some people were starting to notice them. She saw the pointed looks of curiosity and recognition, and knew that before long people would start approaching them. She had to make a choice – whether to dive back into the thick of the ball and hope that no one would spot her, or to follow the prince and use this opportunity to find out more about him, about his proposal last night, and whether she had any chance of wrangling a marriage out of all this. He didn't seem to suspect her of being a social climber for now, and she didn't want him to start thinking that way about her either, so if she really did want to talk about marriage, she would have to find a way to phrase her words that wouldn't make her sound like she was only after him for his social status. That would be a challenge, even for her.

"But my aunt…" she hedged for good measure. She wanted to keep up the good little girl impression she had going on here, just to see what he would do. The prince let out a sigh of exasperation, and without asking for any permission whatsoever, he grabbed her by the hand and started pulling her, not very subtly, towards the ballroom entrance. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as the nobles once again noticed her, and saw that she was with the prince. She had been trying to get by tonight without being noticed – no doubt Lucinda would return home again tonight ranting about the mysterious teal haired stranger. "Let go of me!" she hissed, trying to shake free of his grip.

He was much stronger than her, and she couldn't budge so much as an inch. With her still desperately trying to pull away from him, he dragged her out into the hallway, down another passageway until she could no longer hear the music that the orchestra was playing. It was only when they were this far away from the ballroom that he finally let go of her wrist, turning to give her a triumphant grin. She rubbed her wrist with her fingers – his grip had numbed her, and she could feel prickles as the blood flow there resumed. "Are you glad now? My aunt will probably scold me again about not being present all night at the ball," she injected the perfect amount of sourness into her words.

"Forget about your aunt," he waved his hand casually, "I'll deal with her. Just let me know which noblewoman she is and I'll talk to her personally about you moving to the palace to keep me company. I'll explain to her that your disappearances from the ball are due to your discussion with me regarding this…well, I suppose you could call it a job if you wanted, but it's really meant to be something much more than just a job," he shrugged. Even his shrug was remarkably graceful – perhaps a true sign that he really was meant to be a prince, adopted or not. He was very insistent, she was realising – insistent about getting his own way. Whether that was a good thing or bad thing, she could not be sure yet. "So, are you willing to follow me around the palace?" he now asked.

"I don't suppose I have a choice in this matter," she answered reluctantly, looking around to gain her bearings. This was not a part of the palace she had been to before, and she did not know where she was. The prince had gone down the different passageways so quickly that they all blurred together, and she couldn't recall how to get back to the ballroom. "If you're able to speak to my aunt about your suggestion last night though, that would be good," she added. If only he could settle the problem between her and her stepsisters as well – but that would need more than just discussion.

"You're right, you don't have a choice," he grinned again, looking remarkably satisfied with such an outcome. "I want to show you the palace because you'll need to know this area well, if you were to be my companion. I don't want you to keep getting lost here, since I won't always be around to show you the way," he was speaking as though everything was already settled, and she would be moving to the palace tomorrow. "Tonight, I'm going to talk to my father about you becoming my companion, and then we will come up with a solution to your aunt problem. Don't worry about it – I just want you to be able to pack up and move here within a moment's notice when the time comes."

"I never actually agreed to moving here, you know – I said I would like to, but that doesn't mean I will definitely do it," she cut in, clasping her hands together and placing them over her stomach. It was a subtly defensive pose, and he picked up on that defensiveness instantly, his eyes narrowing at what she said. "I am new here," she added, "and I really wish I could see the sights around here first, get settled and perhaps get a fiancé, before I really think about moving to the palace. Thank you for your offer, Prince Romeo, but I'm sorry – this is really all just too sudden for me," she apologised.

Inwardly, she was hoping to provoke some kind of reaction from him, hopefully in the form of a marriage proposal. Instead, he merely shook his head, letting out a deep sigh. "Why are you so eager to get married?" he asked bluntly. "You're young, like I am, and you don't see me looking for a new fiancée. Enjoy life while you can," he advised, reaching up to fiddle with his blond ponytail. "But enough dreary talk. It matters not to me whether you have made up your mind about joining me or not – I just want to get away from the ball and the falsity of it all, and you shall simply keep me company and entertain me until I decide to return to the celebrations. Is that understood?"

The gleam in his eye left no room for negotiation, so mutely she nodded, actually somewhat glad herself to be away from all those people, curious about her identity. "That's good. Now follow me," he turned away from her, and she followed him uncertainly down the passage. "I have things to talk to you about, but before we speak, I can show you things," he glanced back at her, a sly smile on his face, "things in the palace that would take your breath away. I hope that will change your mind."


	5. Chapter 5

She could hear the swish of her long dress against the carpeted floor. He had ceased holding on to her hand after he felt certain that she would follow him. She looked around, still feeling nervous.

"Don't fret so much, you'll make me panic," the prince said in front of her, though he had not turned back to look at her at all. She glared at his back – he was one to talk, he lived here. She felt strangely guilty about sneaking around in a place which most of the public, even the aristocracy, were largely prevented from entering. She hoped that the prince's tour of the palace wouldn't take too long.

"Why don't you cut your hair?" she asked, since she had nothing better to say – and anyway, she was feeling very distracted by the sight of his short blond ponytail. He stopped so abruptly that she almost crashed right into him, but thankfully she stopped herself just in time. He turned around to stare at her, a look on his face that seemed somewhere between amusement and curiosity.

"Simply because I don't want to," he answered. "I think longer hair suits me. Anyway, if you want to comment on the length of my hair, you should see the king," he shook his head, eyes still gleaming with humour. "It's the same reason why you would keep your own hair, after all. One just like how it looks when it's long. Must I cut my hair short just like every other male noble in the ballroom?"

"Your hair might be one reason why some people describe you as pretty rather than handsome," she blurted out her inner thoughts without thinking it through, and instantly her hand shot up to cover her mouth, embarrassed by what she just said. The prince tilted his head, now looking more puzzled than entertained. She had not meant to say that aloud – first, she didn't want to admit that he was good-looking, because he probably had heard enough of that and she was still trying to play coy. Secondly, comparing the prince to a lady probably was not the best thing she could have done.

"I don't know whether I should feel flattered or offended by that comment," he finally spoke, sounding uncertain. "It's not that I never heard people saying I am attractive, but this is certainly the first time someone called me…pretty. I can assure you that looking like a girl isn't something I intended to achieve when I started growing out my hair," he added, before turning around and continuing on his way. She followed, somewhat sheepish. He didn't react badly to her words, but she still felt his incredulity and hoped that she had not worsened her chances of escaping her prison.

He led her to the window in the middle of the corridor. They were on the second floor of the palace, if she was not wrong. The window was large, twice her height and four times her size. She could see out over the palace grounds from here, and feel the cold moonlight as it shone through the window, bathing her in its silver rays. "Look," the prince pointed out into the darkness, "from here you can see over the whole town, you can see the lights in the distance. Usually you can see the lights from the noble townhouses too, but they're all out today since there's this ball going on. It's rather pretty to look at, I like to stand here and look out into the night whenever I'm feeling stressed or upset," he looked at her. "What do you think?" he hedged, sounding a little unsure of himself, for once.

"It's lovely," she agreed, mesmerised by the town in the distance. She had never been there before. She only ever saw the mansion, the gardens, and some of the other noble townhouses from their manor gates. The idea that there was a whole town full of people, further down the road from where she lived – she wanted to be there, she wanted to live and experience the lives of others. She wanted to know how the commoners lived and worked. The servants answered her questions about their daily lives sometimes, but it wasn't the same because they served nobles, so they were in a sense just like her – no, she wanted to know what the other commoners were like, those who sold produce in the markets and farmed and tailored for a living. Those who were different from her.

"I'm glad you enjoy the view," he nodded, looking satisfied. "Come on, I have more to show you," he moved, but she did not, still gazing out of the window and drinking in the night scenery. The little squares of light in the distance were so pretty, and she could see the vast expanse of lawn right outside the palace along with the elaborate townhouses of the nobles that clustered just a little way down the hill. "We can look at this another time, after you move here," the prince added, sounding a little more impatient now, and he tugged on her hand, pulling her away. A little reluctant, she left the window, hoping that maybe she could get another glimpse before she left the palace tonight.

The palace was extremely big. If she came to stay here, she was sure she would get lost constantly her first week – there were ornate staircases all over the place, leading up to God knew where, and plenty of large double doors that probably opened up into all sorts of strange, unknown rooms. The prince bypassed many of these doors as he led her around the palace, making her wonder what kind of things were kept in the palace, but she did not ask because she knew it was not her business. The carpet they were walking on was very thick and muffled their footsteps well. She looked down at it, studying the embroidered silver and gold design, but the curves and spirals made little sense to her, and after a few failed attempts at trying to trace the design all the way to its beginning, she gave up.

They started to climb up from one of the staircases, and curious, she let her hand glide against the banister. It was made of the smoothest white marble, with delicate gold leaves twining up the small pillars which held up the banister. It was luxury in an understated way, showing wealth but not in an ostentatious manner. Whoever the kings of ages past hired to construct the palace chose the right people. "Where are we going now?" she asked, curious. The window had been nice. Maybe his next choice would be interesting, too. She hadn't expected too much from the tour, to tell the truth.

She honestly thought that it would just be a fancier version of the manor she was trapped in, since to her royalty were just very rich and powerful nobles. But maybe the palace would have surprises in store for her. He laughed, simply turning around and holding his hand out for her. "Take my hand," he invited, blue eyes gleaming, "and I'll show you a world of promise. That window was just the beginning. Staying in the royal palace is unimaginably different from being cooped up in a noble's mansion. You see things…" he waited, hand still outstretched. She hesitated, meeting his gaze – was it really all right for her to touch him so easily? Was he fine with such casual contact, given what he told her about not looking for another fiancée? If she was any other girl, she definitely would have the wrong impression by now. He seemed too interested in her to not be attracted in the slightest.

Slowly, she reached out, placing her hand in his. His hand was soft and smooth, truly the hand of an aristocrat. He had long, nimble fingers, and combined with his smooth skin she knew that he had to be a pianist. It was rather surprising, since most male aristocrats learnt the violin, which was seen as a more masculine option than the piano. She, too, could play the piano. She learnt when she was a little girl, but it had been a long time since she last played, and she knew that she was rusty now. His fingers curled over hers – her hand was noticeably smaller than his – and just like the previous time, he brought her hand up, brushing his lips against her skin. She did not flinch away this time, and he looked up at her, expression wondering. "Are you frightened of me, Cinderella?" he asked.

"What makes you suggest that?" she responded with a question of her own, arching one eyebrow – not that he could see her expression of curiosity, since her mask was in the way. He paused, seeming to consider whether or not he ought to tell her his reason for bringing this up, before he finally smiled and shook his head. Still holding on to her hand, he led her up the stairs, and she lifted her long skirts with her free hand, trying to ensure that she wouldn't trip and fall while climbing up.

"Your shoes certainly are special, aren't they?" he remarked as he glanced down at her raised skirts, the glint of crystal having caught his eye. "They look like…glass. It's the first time I've seen such a pair," this staircase seemed to be never-ending. She had been climbing and climbing for what felt like ages, and still they were only halfway up to the next floor. The prince did not seem prepared to slow down his pace, either, and she was struggling a little with the length of her dress now.

"My mother gave them to me," she answered, and the conversation ended at that as she focused all her attention on not stepping on her dress. Finally, she reached the last step, and sighed in relief as she saw the third floor spreading out before her. "Are you going to show me more sights, more of your whims and fancies?" she asked, her free hand reaching up to her face to adjust her mask. He glanced at her mask, gaze lingering, but looked away once she was done with her adjustments.

"I'll show you the throne room next," he stated, leading the way forward with her hand still in his grasp. She didn't know how to feel about him holding her hand, really. "It's the one room most nobles get to see, if they seek an audience with the king. It's a room mostly saved for important events and discussions, but the room has lovely tapestries and it's wide and spacious. The view from the throne room is as good, if not even better, than the window on the second floor," she could hear him smile. Her interest was piqued by the mention of a better view, and he probably knew that she would be keen – that must be why he brought up the possibility of more scenery to begin with.

"I feel like we've walked more than we've seen anything, though simply the decorations around us, in themselves, are beautiful. How big is the palace?" she asked, wondering if she ought to pull her hand out from his grasp. He shrugged, placing his free hand in his pockets – it was remarkably casual behaviour for a prince. She didn't know how she should react to his manner, if she should turn a blind eye to it or question his lack of formality. Even with their family members, the royalty were meant to be…well, proper. They were role models for the kingdom, after all. Not that the prince seemed to be particularly concerned about being a good role model, from what she could see.

"It's pretty big. You can see it from the outside anyway, can you not?" he turned a little, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes. "It took me a year to remember where every single room was, so don't worry if you feel overwhelmed at first. I won't let my…my friend lose her way here constantly," she didn't fail to notice how he hesitated before he said the word friend. It made her wonder if he really did have any friends. Being royalty had to be difficult, especially when one was as young as the prince. She knew that other aristocrats arranged marriages for their children in a bid to expand their power and influence, and keep the old blood pure – Anastasia and Lucinda had discussed arranged marriage before, while in her earshot. Royalty must have it even worse than the nobles, she mused.

"You know I still have not made any promises about moving here, right?" she asked. How would he react to her saying this? He kept behaving as though she was set to move in any time he wanted. "It really is a nice offer, and your palace is gorgeous, but I can't just up and leave. Surely you understand that. My aunt is the only family I have here, after all," she placed the perfect amount of hesitation and apology in her words. He paused, still gripping her hand tightly, and she stopped right after him, awaiting his response. Suddenly, he let go of her hand, turned to face her, and shook his head sadly.

"I hoped I would be able to change your mind. What could a girl possibly desire, if not luxury or romance?" he said plaintively. "I am not unwilling to continue trying. At least allow me to show you the throne room before you make a decision. After this, I will bring you back to the ballroom if you desire. I have rested here long enough – mingling with the guests downstairs should no longer be as big a chore," his voice was filled with distaste. She hid a smile – he was rather amusing, this prince who did not behave like a prince, though she admitted she didn't know how to respond when he behaved in a way that did not befit his station. She was not good with social etiquette. The last time she spent time with nobles in polite society was when she was twelve, and her social skills were a little rusty. The only thing she remembered from those days was that people should behave in a way which matched their social status, and if they did not do that, it could create quite the scandal.

"Very well, show me," she waited for him to walk so she could follow him, so he went on his way. The third floor seemed to be rather empty compared to the second – there were no other doors here, and only a few small windows, nowhere as big or grand as the wide window they saw earlier. The throne room was at what she assumed to be the very end of the hallway – there was only one set of double doors on this floor anyway, from what she could see. Outside those doors, there were two guards, and as they drew closer, the guards stood erect, awaiting them with their spears.

"Your Highness," they greeted when the prince came close enough. He waved his hand, telling them to drop the formalities. They glanced at her, the girl waiting a little distance behind the prince, and looks of curiosity crossed their faces. "Who is this?" the guard on the left asked, gaze flitting between her and the prince. The two guards exchanged a look, almost a _smirk_ , and she instantly figured out what they had assumed – that she was the girl the prince wanted to take as his bride. But they could not be more wrong. The prince must have sensed this too, because for some reason he took off his mask. He was facing the guards, so she could not see his face, but now that his mask was off she was very curious to see what he looked like. He probably wouldn't have ever revealed his face otherwise.

The guards instantly stopped snickering and stood fearfully at attention when they saw the prince's face. He must not look happy, Miku thought. "She is someone I met at the ball, and I'm merely showing her around. I want her to see the throne room. It's the pride of the palace, isn't it?" he asked. His tone was pleasant, but she was sure his voice didn't match the look that was probably on his face right then. "Now you'll let us pass, won't you?" he waited. The two guards nodded quickly and sprang into motion, both of them gripping one of the door handles and pulling hard. The heavy wooden double doors slowly swung open, revealing the throne room which lay beyond.

"Thank you," the prince turned around – but before she could finally see what he looked like, he reached up, placing the black mask on his face once more. She felt a little disappointed about this missed opportunity, but reminded herself that it wasn't necessary to know his appearance. She only needed him as a way to get out of the manor, and his good looks did not come into that plan. "Ladies first?" he suggested, stepping aside so that she could enter the room. She swallowed, suddenly a little nervous – all this fanfare and the guards and double doors seemed to foreshadow something, but it was silly to be nervous about entering a room. _It's not just any room; it's the throne room, the place where the king has his audience with the people of his kingdom_ , her mind supplied unhelpfully. She ignored her consciousness and walked in, the prince following right behind her.

As they entered, the doors swung shut behind her, leaving her inside the throne room with the prince – but she ignored that, awe-struck by the amazing view before her. The carpet of the throne room was rich red velvet, so soft and thick that she could feel her feet sink in a little with every step she took. For some reason, part of the luxurious carpet was boxed by four wooden sticks, right next to the window – the window which, try as she might, she could not tear her eyes away from.

The window was the wall, or the wall was the window, she could not tell. All she knew was that before her very eyes, there was a huge expanse of glass that covered one whole side of the room. And through this expanse of glass, she could see not just the noble townhouses and the little town that lay further away, but all the way out across the open country – the rolling hills and the dark, star-covered sky and the bright silver moon. It was so beautiful that all she could do was stare. The prince was right. The view from here was even better than the one from the second floor.

"Do you like it?" the prince came up from behind her, murmuring into her ear. She didn't respond, she was so taken in by the scenery. It was wonderful, seeing a land far beyond what she imagined. She never knew this was what her town looked like. "Move here and this is what you'll see, every day if you want to. There are so many other things, and you know it – the rose gardens, the stairs, even the windows through which you see this now. There are so many other enchantments that could take your breath away in the palace, if only you would just _stay_ ," his hands crept around her waist, but still she did not notice. He leant in closer now, voice dropping to a soft whisper. "Stay and be my companion, won't you, Cinderella? Let me find out more about you, what goes on in the strange mind that lurks behind that pretty face. If you stay, you'll get me out of trouble with my father too, since he'd have to stop accusing me of not actually trying to talk to people," he added as an aside. She turned to look at him now, eyes wide, and for once she seemed to be totally mute.

"I…" she started, gaze flitting from side to side, but before she could continue the double doors slowly swung open once more, and someone whom he did not want to see at the moment entered the room, folding his arms and staring hard at him. Len groaned, instantly removing his hands from the girl's waist, while she gasped and backed away from the man who was now sharing the throne room with them. "Is that the king?" she whispered to him, nervousness sparking in her green eyes.

"Father," Len greeted the king, leaving the girl with no doubt about the identity of this man. "I was just showing my _friend_ around, since she's never seen the palace. She's a foreigner, the one I talked to you about last night. Now you know that I'm not just making up an imaginary friend so you'll leave me alone," he added, sounding a little spiteful. The king blinked, glancing at the girl in question, who instantly dipped into a low curtsey when their gazes met. She did not dare to raise her head and look into the king's eyes. His father continued staring at her even after she rose from her curtsey, and if Len did not know better he would say that his father looked almost…afraid.

"What's your name?" he addressed Cinderella. "My son tells me that you call yourself Cinderella, but surely that is not your real name?" he tilted his head, the long hair he tied up in his usual ponytail swishing around his waist. Len was not exaggerating earlier when he told the girl his father had hair longer than his. He looked to Cinderella, curious about how she would respond – would she insist that her name really was Cinderella in front of the king himself, or would he finally learn the truth?

She seemed fidgety. "My aunt calls me Cinderella," she finally said, keeping her gaze down. Len frowned – he knew an evasion when he heard one, but his father simply nodded and accepted her answer. Len couldn't believe his father would just listen to her like that, because who in their right mind would call herself Cinderella? But when he opened his mouth to object, his father shot him a warning look and he shut his mouth, albeit sullenly. He was going to have a very good chat with the king later about this matter – the last he checked, they did not tolerate their subjects lying to them.

"Go back to the ball, Cinderella," his father said gently. "The prince was being selfish, taking you away from the celebrations like that. Next time, if you are not comfortable with what he wants you to do, you can simply refuse – he hardly acts like the prince anyway most of the time, so there's no need to award him the respect that comes with his station," Len coughed dramatically at his father's words to indicate that he was still here, and still able to hear everything he said, but he was sadly ignored. "Do you know the way? If not, I can lead you myself. I want the prince to stay here," the king turned to him, deep blue eyes narrowing. "There's something I must speak to you about," he elaborated, and Len nodded grudgingly. He was prepared for a lecture now about evading his princely responsibilities and sneaking off from the ball, but he regretted nothing he did. Besides, Cinderella had not been _that_ reluctant about leaving the ball with him. Maybe just a little…

"I can find my own way, there's no need to trouble you, Your Majesty," she answered quickly, curtseying once more. She was never that polite to him. "The ball is wonderful, I truly am enjoying myself. I am very sorry for trespassing in the palace," she shot him a look, and he bet that if she took off the mask he would see that she was glaring at him. The heat of her gaze seared him.

"Wait. Are you coming tomorrow?" he asked quickly, before she could turn and get back to the ball she so wished to attend. He was rather certain that she only seemed so desperate to be part of the celebrations because of her aunt. He really had to do something about this girl's aunt. She looked quickly between him and his father, who was watching the both of them with keen interest, and she nodded, much to his relief. Then she fled through the double doors back to the passage outside, the doors closing behind her, leaving him in private with his adopted father. Resignedly, he faced the man who saved him three years ago, entirely prepared for a lecture or scolding of some sort.

Instead, his father looked thoughtful, and he walked over to the window that was Len's favourite spot in the entire palace, looking out into the night sky. Slowly, Len walked over to his father's side, looking out of the window as well. From here, he could see what Cinderella saw. It was beautiful, he knew, but he didn't know it was so distracting that she would allow him to touch her that way. It had been quite a surprise that she didn't instantly turn around and slap him. It made him feel somewhat guilty about his actions because he knew that he should not have done that. He didn't even like her – their intimacy was unwarranted. But he really wanted her to stay. He desperately wanted a friend who wouldn't just use him as a stepping stone – someone he could trust and actually confide in.

There was no guarantee that she would not end up like the rest, but he thought there was a better chance she would be someone genuine to talk to than any of the other nobles who attended the ball tonight. "Who is she, really?" his father spoke, finally breaking the silence between them. "Her name is not Cinderella. But she is not willing to reveal her true name. There must be a reason why she's here, why she gave herself such a moniker…and normally, I would fear the worst, I really would."

"You think she's a spy or a traitor?" the moment the words rolled off his tongue, he knew them to be untrue. "That's not possible. Don't ask me why…I just know," he shook his head vehemently. "She simply does not have the ruthless character of a spy or assassin. Besides, a proper assassin would have just killed me or you the very first night of the ball. Why wait all three days?" he questioned.

The king shook his head as well. "I know that. I'm not suspecting her of being an assassin. It's just that there's something terribly familiar about her. I don't want to hope, because I've long thought her dead, but her teal hair and her voice are just too much of a coincidence…" he sighed. Len stared at his father in disbelief, the words he just said registering but not making any sense at all to him.

"Wait. Are you telling me, Father, that you actually _know_ this girl?" he asked forcefully. "You know her? How could you know her? She told me she's a foreigner – she came from overseas at her mother's behest to live with her aunt, who would prepare her for her induction into formal noble society. She's here to look for an aristocrat to marry. You can't possibly know some random stranger who just arrived in our country not long ago, can you?" there was no way his father could find her familiar in any way. She did not have common features. She was not the kind of person one just saw on the streets. So it was impossible that his father might have mixed her up with some other person.

"No, no. If I'm right, if she's really the person I think she is, then…she's lying about her history too. The girl I know, the girl I met when she was just a child, was born here and raised here. Never before has she visited another country – her father was not willing to put a child so young at such huge risk," he paused. Len waited for the king to continue, heart thudding – whatever all this was about, it sounded interesting, and he might finally know something about this mysterious girl that was not a lie or rumour. "You know in my family, I am the last remaining male. I am the only person who can carry on the Kamui bloodline," he stated. "But one of my great-aunts once married into the Hatsune family…" the Hatsunes, Len knew of them. They were highly prestigious, descended from one of the four noble families who founded this kingdom. But they had recently fallen out of favour after the death of the head of family, Hatsune Mikuo. "So effectively, any Hatsune is my distant cousin."

"I don't see what all this is leading up to," Len sighed, running his hand through his blond hair in frustration. The king shot him a smile, not a humorous one but rather knowing, and almost sad. "Are you just going to give me a lecture on family history? I know your family history almost as well as I know my own – I had to learn about the important aristocratic families when I was little since I'm the only son of my family, et cetera et cetera," he resisted the urge to roll his eyes, for that would have been disrespectful in front of the king. Even he had his limits regarding what he would and would not do.

"Did you know that Hatsune Mikuo and his daughter, Hatsune Miku, both had teal hair?" the king asked. At that, Len's eyes widened, and he whipped around to face his father, listening intently now. "Hatsune Mikuo died in a fire six years ago. He was my cousin, and a rather good friend of mine as well. I visited him frequently before I became busy, deciding that I would try and claim the right to the throne," he sounded wistful. "I stopped visiting them after Miku turned six…that was twelve years ago, she would be the same age as you if she's still alive," he added. Len's thoughts were racing – how old was Cinderella? Did she ever mention her age to him? "According to his widow, Hatsune Miku died in the same fire as her father. But even after all these years, I remember her voice. She always had the loveliest, sweetest voice for a six-year-old. And her teal hair as well…she has to be Hatsune Miku. This is all too much of a coincidence. And she looks the right age, too."

"So you think Cinderella is this Miku girl, and she's posing as someone else at this ball for a reason?" he asked slowly, to make sure he was getting everything right. His father nodded. "If she really is a dead girl come back to life…that might explain why she's so reluctant to remove her mask, or to move into the palace even after I asked repeatedly," he realised. "Do you think she remembers you? Is that why she didn't want you to escort her back to the ball, for fear you will recognise her for who she really is?" he didn't really want to believe all this because it seemed so…unbelievable, for lack of a better word to use. It was all so coincidental that it seemed like a setup. His father shook his head.

"No, she was young when I ceased visiting my cousin, her father. She probably does not remember who I am. Even if she does, I have grown older since she last saw me. She probably does not recognise the man standing in the finery of a king," he laughed. It was almost bitter. "Mikuo was a good friend of mine, and someone I was proud to call my cousin. He was wise for his age and quick-witted – he brought the Hatsune family to new heights, and with his death, they came crashing down. He saved my floundering textiles business when I needed help the most, when all my other backers had disappeared with my funds. I owe him. At the very least, I need to find out if Cinderella really is his missing daughter – and if she is, why is she hiding herself? I want to help her," he said earnestly, meeting Len's gaze. Len had to hold his breath at the intensity in those blue eyes.

He could not help but be moved by his father's story. And, as his adopted son, he had his duties. He owed the king, Kamui Gakupo, a debt that he doubted he would ever be able to repay. This man was both father and king, and he knew that he could not just watch his father wrack his brains thinking of ways to communicate with this mystery girl. Len was depressed, Len was once suicidal, but he knew how to repay people for treating him well, and his father had done exactly that. "I'll help you," he offered, much to the king's surprise. "I have spoken to her before. You know of my situation with her – I am trying to convince her to move in with me as a friend. If she accepts, then we will have more opportunities to find out more about her and her situation. It'll be easier than you trying to build a relationship with her from scratch – besides, you are the king. You have no time, whereas time is something I have an excess of," he pointed out. His father seemed to hesitate at the suggestion.

"I would not want to burden you with my personal problems," he explained quietly, placing one hand against the cold glass panels. Len could see grey clouds beginning to creep in, obscuring the moon and the stars – it might be a sign of rain later. "I want you to focus on finding someone, Len. It has been too long...three years is too long for anyone to pine. I know you have your sights fixed on this Cinderella girl, but I meant a bride, Len, not a mere companion. Besides, if she's really the Hatsune Miku I knew, I doubt she'll have enough free time to accompany you while we unravel the conspiracy that surrounds her. I especially want to know why her stepmother claims she's dead…"

"Father, you just want me to distract myself from my grief, right?" he pointed out. The king nodded, turning to face him curiously. "Then let me solve this mystery on your behalf. It'll provide plenty of distraction, believe me," he said firmly. The king seemed to be considering. "You want this settled quickly, right? Allowing me to handle this on your behalf will be faster than you attempting to solve it yourself, and it will give you the time you need to settle your usual daily affairs," he concluded, knowing that his argument and logic were sound. After some deliberation, the king finally nodded.

"Very well. Don't fail me then, my son. I trust you," he placed a firm hand on Len's shoulder. "You really can help me get to the bottom of this?" suddenly, for the first time he could recall, his father looked almost vulnerable. He was usually strong and sharp, and he was the one who helped Len out of his previous suicidal mentality. This new, softer side of his royal father was one he was unused to, and it made him think of the fear he saw on the king's face when he first saw Cinderella. He knew he had to repay this man, who had essentially given him a new life – though at that time it was not a life he wanted – and gave him anything and everything he desired. He was the prince now, and he had a duty towards this man. But it also went beyond just national loyalty and familial affection – after hearing his father's story, he felt almost morally obligated to help see this tale to its very conclusion.

"Yes, I will," he answered. "It's the one thing I can do to repay you for the extra years of life you forced upon me," he said wryly. "So rest assured, I will do everything in my power to make her stay so we can find out more about her," he hesitated. "I'll even propose to her if needed," he finally said, "like you suggested. To take a bride out of duty rather than love. This is my duty fulfilled."

His father outright beamed. "Thank you, my son," he nodded, sheer, overwhelming gratitude so noticeably present in his expression that Len almost had to look away. "I hope for our sakes that this is quickly resolved. This has been haunting me for years – the thought that I could have possibly done something to prevent the tragedy. Now, there's a chance that my niece is still alive. I must help her out of the ashes – the Hatsune family must rise to their former glory. They are little more than a name and a manor now, with a moderate fortune – more on the level of the Shion family than one of the old Four. Their name still commands respect, but how long will mere reputation last if a noble family winds up destitute? None of the women left in the family are working. Their fortune will not last. But I admit I am not concerned about the fates of those who married into the Hatsune family, only those with their blood. I only want to help Mikuo's daughter because of the debt I owe," the king sighed. "I will not be able to rest easy knowing that I have never returned the favour he did."

"Don't worry, Father," Len stepped away from the window, heading towards the entrance of the throne room. His father turned to watch him leave. Right before he stepped out, he turned back and shot the king a knowing grin. "You know I can be charming when I want to be. That girl probably should not be _too_ difficult to seduce. Once she's willing to move in here with me, we'll know the truth. It's just a matter of time," though he was not looking forward to marrying someone he barely knew, no matter how entertaining she was. "Meanwhile, I will return to the ball to look for her, and hopefully enjoy myself while I'm at it. You might wish to partake of the festivities as well."

Then he knocked on the doors, slipping out of the throne room as soon as the gap was big enough. He ignored the guards when they asked him why the girl earlier had left in such a fluster. Len knew he had to look for Cinderella now, and he had to do so urgently – but this time, it wasn't just for his own sake. It was for his father's sake as well. And Len was determined not to let him down.


	6. Chapter 6

The night was still early, and she didn't feel like returning to the manor yet. The pantry was still severely lacking food, so she had few options to work with for supper. It wouldn't take that long for her to prepare the same meal for the stepsisters as last night – bread, cheese and some milk.

She was standing by a marble pillar, watching the couples dancing on the floor. A server passed by her, offering her a drink, and she declined. She had never drank wine before, and she did not want to try. Lucinda acted in the most ridiculous manner when she was drunk, and she would not risk the same thing happening to her at the ball. The server simply nodded and moved away from her.

She wanted to dance. She could feel her body swaying slightly as the orchestra played. They were playing a light, lively tune now, perfect for laughing and twirling. She could imagine herself on the floor, like the rest of the dancers, exchanging partners and smiles and spinning around and around until she spun right back into the arms of her first partner. But who would her first partner be?

An image of the prince, with his cerulean eyes and knowing smile – a borderline _smirk_ – flitted through her mind, and she blinked. He was a good dancer, she admitted. Last night, he led the dance perfectly, and seemed perfectly at ease with the steps and motions of each piece. He was one of the best dance partners she ever had, not that she had many to compare him to. Her father too was a wonderful dancer, and when he was in a playful mood he liked to pick her up and twirl her around, her mother laughing and clapping as they romped around rambunctiously in the drawing room.

Her eyes felt like they were misting up, and she blinked rapidly, wiping the moisture that leaked from underneath her eyelids away from her face. Thinking about the past would bring her nothing but sadness and longing; she would have to let go, she had to look forward to the future and think about her plans. She could reminisce about the past when she was free from the mansion, when she was no longer at the beck and call of her stepsisters. Then, she could do whatever she wanted.

"Good evening," she jumped a little, startled by the sound of someone speaking to her. She turned to face the speaker, and her eyes widened – there stood her stepmother, dressed in black like her, a netted veil covering half her face. She looked stern and imposing, and Miku's first thought was that her stepmother had discovered her identity, and was about to reprimand her and force her to go home and await her punishment. "I am sorry, but you look rather familiar to me…may I know which family you're from, my dear?" her stepmother suddenly smiled, and Miku felt relief flood through her body. So her stepmother still did not know who she really was, then. But now she had to think of a name that was not her true name or her nickname. What should she call herself now?

"My name is…" she hesitated for the briefest of moments, then made up her mind and carried on, "Kamui Miki, it is a pleasure to meet you, Lady…?" she paused here, lingering as if she did not know what her stepmother's name was. Her stepmother seemed rather surprised at her false identity.

"I am Lady Hatsune, the head of the Hatsune family. Not that there is much of a family left," she laughed, sounding bitter. Miku did not comment, though she was tempted to blame her stepfamily for the decline of the family legacy. "Kamui…" her gaze lingered on her, making her feel uneasy. "Are you related to the king, then?" she asked. Miku blinked. The king? Was he a Kamui? She did not know there was a connection between the royalty and the name she chose. She only used the name Kamui because it came to her from some distant memory – the name was rather familiar, as though she knew someone from the Kamui family, but she could not recall whom. Her recollection of the name came from so long ago that she didn't even know how old she was when the memory formed.

"I am…a distant relative," she fibbed, figuring that her stepmother wouldn't even talk to the king and ask about her anyway. "I came to stay with an aunt, from my mother's side. I am not from this land," she curtseyed, behaving as politely as she could – if she allowed her unhappiness with her stepfamily to manifest in this situation, her stepmother would surely begin to suspect something. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Hatsune. I hope I have the delight of your guidance through this new land," she kept her gaze downwards so her stepmother would not see the distaste on her face.

"Spare the formalities, Lady Kamui," her stepmother responded, in what Miku had to admit was a most gracious manner. "I came to speak to you because I found you rather familiar…you look like a girl I know, back in my manor. She has the same teal hair as you, as well as your green eyes. You even sound somewhat like her. But she can't possibly be at the ball, since she has no transport here nor does she have anything to wear to the palace. Otherwise, I might have thought you were her."

"A girl in your manor?" Miku asked, injecting curiosity into her words. "Is she your daughter, this girl? Or merely a servant? If she is your daughter, surely it would not be surprising for her to come to the ball with you," she ran a hand down her braid, smoothing the wispy strands of teal which had escaped the tight plait. Her stepmother watched her move her hand, still looking rather curious. Miku wished she could quickly conclude the conversation and move away from here, because the more she spoke to this woman the more likely she was to figure out her true identity. But she did not know how to end their exchange, and simply resorted to seeming as uninterested as she could possibly be without being outright impolite. She sincerely hoped her stepmother would get the hint.

"She is just a servant," her stepmother finally answered. Miku knew she would say that – there was no way anyone from her stepfamily would claim any relationship to her, be it through blood or marriage. "I only have two daughters, and they're both at this ball tonight. Perhaps you will meet them. They are both rather interested in you, Lady Kamui. Many people want to speak to you."

"I cannot, for the life of me, understand why. I am a mere girl, and there is nothing very interesting or special about me," she lied through her teeth because she knew she was most unordinary, but it was unbecoming to blow one's own trumpet, she knew. Noblewomen were expected to be demure, humble and gentle. They did not speak of their own merits, and when other people complimented them, it was best to either be thankful and appreciative, or to deny they had those merits at all.

"You caught the prince's attention, and that is not something many girls can claim to have done," her stepmother responded, tilting her head as if to study her closely. "You danced with him all night last night, and tonight people are whispering about how he left the ballroom with you. There are rumours abound that he has his sights set on you to become his wife. Many girls are jealous of you," she shook her head, a smile creeping over her face. "Young love and adoration! It makes me wish I could be young again, seeking the attention of the charming prince but only ever gazing on from afar."

"I am merely fortunate," she lowered her gaze, "and he is interested in me because I am a foreigner. He speaks to me about travelling, and I am most willing to listen for his stories are extremely fascinating. He would gladly entertain any other lady as well, as long as they are willing to listen to him," which was a complete lie, but her stepmother didn't have to know that. Her stepmother appeared to be a little disbelieving as well, giving her another curious look, but she did not question her words.

"I see…" she murmured. "Well, I hope you enjoy yourself for the rest of the night, Lady Kamui. It was a joy meeting someone as well-mannered and delightful as yourself. Perhaps, if you wish, you could come to my manor in the future and we can have a nice chat over a cup of tea and scones. One of our servants bakes excellent scones, you must come and try them some day," she offered. Miku nodded and smiled, knowing exactly which servant her stepmother referred to – it was true that the scones she baked were delicious – and, after bidding her farewell, she was finally able to escape. She let out a sigh of relief, glad that she was finally away from the woman and her incessant questions.

She looked around, wanting to ensure that she would not be cornered by Anastasia or Lucinda after getting away from their mother. Anastasia was standing with a group of other noble ladies, who were all chattering away about some matter – given that Anastasia was among them, it probably involved knitting or gardening or some other equally dull activity. Lucinda was at the other end of the ballroom, attempting to dance with an unfortunate young nobleman – unfortunate for Lucinda was a poor dancer, and she kept stepping on the poor man's feet. Miku snickered at the sight.

"My dear lady, I realised that you never gave us your name," once again, someone startled her. This time, it wasn't her stepmother, but she still found the voice vaguely familiar – it took her a few seconds to place the voice, then her memories clicked together and she could attach a name and face to the person. She turned to face him, a smile prepared for conversation. The young lord who gave her a ride to the palace on both nights of the ball so far beamed back at her, clearly excited.

He was a handsome young man, tall and dapper with bright blue eyes, an enthusiastic smile and dark, navy hair which flopped carelessly over his forehead. She might have been more attracted to him, but she could not help thinking of him as a clumsy little puppy, seeking her attention. It was not that she looked down on him or anything of that sort, of course – she merely preferred to be spoken to in a less excited manner. Seeing someone so clearly delighted to meet her made her feel strange.

"My name is Kamui Miki," now that she finally managed to come up with a name for herself, it slipped off her tongue much easier, the words flowing so naturally that she almost thought of it as her real name. "My family chose not to come to the ball tonight, actually," she added, in case he said he wished to speak to the aunt she claimed to live with. "My aunt is feeling poorly, so my uncle remained at home today to stay with her. I was sent here alone, so once again, I had no transportation. They told me to come and find you if I wished to go to the ball, since you offered to send me all three nights. I do hope that I am not intruding," she said politely, curtseying to him.

"No, of course you're not!" he answered vehemently, and she flinched back slightly, shocked by the sudden energy in his words. "You're most definitely welcome to take my carriage again – tomorrow night, and whenever else you might want," he hesitated. "I hope my fervour does not make you feel uncomfortable?" he asked, and she wondered if he had noticed the anxious look on her face. She was unaccustomed to being shown so much attention, at least not on such a personal level.

"I'm very well, thank you. You flatter me with your words," she smiled, clasping her hands together. She hoped he was not here to invite her to a dance. She really did not want to dance with all those wondering strangers now, at least not without the prince – at least, when the prince was around, no one dared to come up to her and ask her anything. She did not think that this young lord would hold the same sort of influence. "Any lady would be absolutely taken with your compliments, Lord…?"

"Oh, yes. You never got my name either, did you? Mother was monopolising the conversation," he realised, laughing softly. "My name is Shion Kaito, though you probably already knew I was from the Shion family. Mother is proud of our heritage," she could tell he wanted to roll his eyes, but politely refrained from doing so in front of her. "As for you, Lady Kamui…are you relative to the king?" his eyes widened. "He is a Kamui too, in fact. But you say that you are from overseas…and there are no families with the Kamui name living in the area, at least none that I know of."

Lord Shion seemed confused, not that she would blame him. "I am a Kamui from my father's side of the family," she hastily made up, "and I came to stay with my aunt, from my mother's side. The Lady Hatsune," she added, not knowing any other woman amongst the nobility and not wanting to make up some other name again. Shion Kaito would be harder to bluff than her stepmother. Her stepmother married into nobility, and was originally from a middle or lower class working family. Shion Kaito, no doubt, was an aristocrat from birth, and probably knew the history and bloodlines of the nobles around him. If she just threw out some random name, it would definitely make him suspicious.

"Oh, the Dowager Duchess Hatsune is your aunt! You are indeed a true noble," taking hold of her hand, he kissed it, surprising her. "But you say your aunt is ill, and your uncle is taking care of her?" he questioned, a frown crossing his face. "Is she not right there? I saw her speak to you moments ago – and from what I heard, isn't Lady Hatsune a widow?" for a moment, she panicked internally, not knowing how to get her way out of this. The young lord looked at her quizzically, completely unaware of the dilemma his questioning was putting her through. Taking a deep breath, she planned out her tale, making sure that the story she hastily fabricated would have no loopholes to exploit.

Then she smiled at him. "Well, my aunt _was_ ill before I arrived, which was why I had no transport once again, but shortly after I arrived at the ball, she decided she felt well enough to come down and observe me for herself. She wants me to marry a nice nobleman, you see. She feels that it is past the age for me to be married," which was true, since many young ladies were married by the time they were sixteen. "As for my uncle…" she lowered her voice, and Lord Shion had to lean in closer to listen to her, "there is a man courting her! She seems quite fond of him, but she does not wish for anyone to know about him yet. When I mentioned my uncle to you, it was an unfortunate slip of the tongue. They seem set to marry soon, and he allows me to call him uncle though they have not had a formal union yet. His identity must be kept secret to protect my aunt's reputation, I hope that you can understand why, but he is a pleasant, friendly man and I really do see him as my uncle now."

He nodded. When she mentioned that her aunt wanted her to marry a noble earlier, his eyes lit up with interest, and she hoped that he would not talk to her stepmother about her niece looking for a man to marry. That would raise many awkward questions. "Oh, and Lord Shion? Regarding the matter of my marriage – I would prefer it if you did not talk to my aunt about that, she is extremely particular about the nobleman I should end up marrying and would be most displeased to hear that I am speaking of my hopeful engagement so casually," she stared into his eyes intently, desperately hoping that he would listen and agree. He shot her a puzzled frown, but nodded again to her relief.

"You seem to have quite a complicated family, Lady Kamui!" he observed. "Why did your mother send you all the way here instead of simply arranging a marriage for you where you were? Of course, I do not complain about meeting you, but one is curious about your family's rather…convoluted way of doing things," he explained, still with that puzzled look on his face. When he asked her about her mother, a small lump formed in her throat, and she wanted to say that it was because her mother was in a faraway place she could not reach – that was why she was sent to her aunt. It was the truth, after all. Her mother was dead, and Miku would not see her until she herself died a natural death.

Before she had to explain though, she heard the prince exclaim in delight, and he sounded like he was uncomfortably nearby. She turned – there was the blond haired prince, standing only a few steps away from her, looking at the man she was speaking with as though he was an old friend. For all she knew, they were old friends. "Lord Shion!" the prince called, a beam on his face. "I have not seen you in…a year, perhaps? How are you, are you and your family doing well?" he sounded most unlike what she was used to, and she couldn't help but stare at him in shock. He ignored her.

"Oh, I'm doing very well, Your Highness," the navy haired man bowed deeply before the prince. "My father sends you his blessings. Unfortunately he could not attend the ball as he is still overseas on business, trying to negotiate with the fishermen. The strikes keep continuing, my father told me that the fishermen speak of demons and monsters in the sea. Of course, it is all mere nonsense, there are no such things as monsters," he laughed a little, while the prince looked rather thoughtful. Miku found Lord Shion's story quite compelling – though the young lord seemed to scoff at the tale, she was quite interested in travelling overseas and listening to the stories and legends of other people. She wondered what sort of monsters these fishermen saw.

"Indeed, you are right, Lord Shion. The only monsters there are in this world are human men themselves, after all," the prince finally said, a remarkably philosophical comment that Miku had honestly, until now, thought him incapable of. At that statement, Lord Shion looked slightly uncomfortable, but the prince merely beamed again and patted him on the shoulder. "Well, do enjoy yourself, and pass my greetings on to Viscountess Shion," the prince smiled. "As well as to The Viscount of Chalice, when he returns. It has been a long time since he and my father last spoke."

Lord Shion nodded. "I will let my parents know," he cast both of them a lingering look before he turned and walked away. Miku stared after his retreating back, and only looked up when the prince waved his hand before her face. She blinked, glancing at him – he looked almost entertained, though she could not imagine what he could possibly find amusing. She was quite tempted to glare at him, actually – she could hardly believe she just ran into the king, much less spoken at all to him. The _king_ , and she had been utterly unprepared.

"Are you smitten, Cinderella?" the prince asked. "Lord Shion is a nice man, perhaps a little stick-in-the-mud for my preferences, but he is pleasant and easy to take advantage of…well, that's a secret from me to you," he grinned. "And his father is the Viscount of Chalice, which should satisfy your aunt I suppose. His peerage can be traced back for generations. Or, if that is not sufficient," he placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her slightly to face the dancing crowd, "that man there with the blond hair standing by the pillar is Earl Akita Nero, son of the Marquis of Ashtonbury. Or over there, the one with the silver hair and strange eyes – The Viscount of Lexane, son of the Marquis of Archex, Utatane Piko. I could introduce you to anyone you want, Cinderella, if only you'd move to my palace."

She knew there had to be a point to that long-winded spiel. "And what of yourself, Prince Romeo?" she asked coquettishly, curious about his own title. After all, if he was adopted three years ago, then surely he must hold multiple titles. "What esteemed peerage do you come from?" at her question, he stilled, and for the longest time he said not a word. She began to wonder if he was offended by her.

"Me? Nothing much, really. I'm just the prince," he sounded stiff. "Prince of Denvy, Earl of Ginshire, all the titles that come with being son of the king. You should know them," he tilted his head. "Technically, I'm not supposed to have all those titles. I'm adopted, after all. But there is no other heir apparent, nor does my father have any interest in starting a family, much to the scandal of the ministers. So I am in line to the throne now," he took his hand off her shoulder. "As for my personal peerage, those are of the past. I no longer desire to hold those titles," he said, voice very quiet.

It sounded like this was a sensitive issue. She knew it would be better not to probe, so she directed the conversation towards a more light-hearted topic. "Oh, that's fascinating to know – however, I did not know about the prince's titles. I'm a foreigner, remember?" she stepped away from him, still playing the part of the kittenish girl. Some look crossed the prince's face when she said that – a look that flitted across his face so quickly that she almost missed it – and he grinned again, the previous solemnness he had fallen into entirely gone. It was so unlike him to be formal or proper, at least from what she knew of him. When he was speaking to Lord Shion, it was the first time she ever saw him behave like a prince.

"Indeed, you are! And that makes for lively conversation," he answered, looking out at the dancing couples. "The night is young, and I wish to be entertained. Could you, perhaps, bless me with a dance?" he bowed, extending his hand. She knew it would be rude to reject since he was royalty, and besides she _did_ wish to dance, so she took hold of his hand and allowed him to lead her to the floor. She would only be able to dance a few pieces before she had to leave, but she would make sure that she enjoyed herself to the fullest. After all, tomorrow was the last night of the ball.

They danced in complete silence for a while, just moving and twirling quietly as the sounds of the orchestra music flowed over them. She was so used to the steps – she knew these songs, they were what she danced and practiced to when she was a child – that she could afford to pay attention to other things. She saw the colour and elegance of the women and their dresses, the charming smiles of the men and their wit and manner – she saw the lights and marble of the ballroom and the sounds of laughter and music and making merry. It was a delightful atmosphere, one she failed to appreciate fully yesterday due to her panicking over the prince paying her such special attention, and worrying over the consequences of her actions and words. Tonight, she was relaxed, and that showed itself in the smile on her face and the fluidity of her movements. Len was surprised by just how much more graceful she seemed – she was a good enough dancer last night, but now she moved with an elegance which defied his expectations.

"What do you think of my father?" he decided to ask. Was the king correct in saying that she did not remember him at all? She looked up at him, obviously startled out of the comfortable silence that was between them – at least, it appeared to be comfortable for her, seeing how absorbed she was in the dancing. He did not feel as immersed. He was still distracted, thinking about the improbable story his father shared earlier. Truly, what were the odds? The Hatsune family…he had not heard anything of them ever since the head of family died, six years ago. He didn't even think he would meet a Hatsune in his lifetime, their family was so small. It was said that there was a curse on the family, for every single generation only ever had one son, perhaps two at the most. The Hatsune line would have stopped with the late Duke since he died without a male heir, unless his daughter married one of the other noble families with Hatsune blood somewhere far back in their lineage – but then, their daughter was dead too. And with the only Hatsunes left being the woman who married into the family and her daughters, it would appear that there was no true Hatsune blood remaining, and the family legacy would eventually die out, becoming a mere fragment of history.

Yet here, this girl he was dancing with, this girl who so adamantly refused to reveal her true name, might be the last Hatsune, the only person left to inherit a legacy of fame and fortune. The Hatsunes were always the most prominent out of the four great families, the other three being the Kamui family, the Sakine family and the Kagamine family. It made him think about how far the mighty had fallen. Perhaps there was something to be said about the apparent curse the Hatsunes suffered.

"Your father? His Majesty, the king?" Cinderella looked surprised to be asked such a question out of the blue, not that he could blame her. "I think he is extremely polite…as befits a king," she said carefully, obviously wary since he was the adopted son of the man they were discussing. He nodded, indicating that he wished for her to continue, and she cleared her throat. "I did not know his name when I first saw him in the throne room, but some people have mentioned to me that he is from the Kamui family, which is one of the four founding families of this country. He must be a very remarkable person."

"Indeed, he is remarkable," he echoed. "But all of the founding families are remarkable, wouldn't you say so? They must be, if even a foreigner like you knows of them," he eyed her, wondering if she would hesitate and make up something to cover up her knowledge of their history. The founding four were common history among the nobility, every noble child knew the story, but it was local history – not something that he expected a foreigner to know about. Given that she did not even know his appearance or his personal background or who the king was, he hardly expected her to know about the four families. It was suspicious.

However, her reply was smooth and poised, as though she had been expecting him to question her. "I asked the people I spoke with why they seemed so awed at the Kamui name, and they told me about the history of this country. I listened with rapt attention, for it pleases me to learn," her fingers dug into his shoulder, and he almost winced. It was as if she was trying to get, in some small petty way, revenge on him for probing so much into her identity. She was, from what she had shown so far, not stupid – she was probably aware that his words indicated some doubt regarding her claimed identity. "I know of the other three families as well. The Kagamines, the Sakines and the Hatsunes. This all interests me greatly – would you like to tell me more about each family, Prince Romeo?"

"Gladly," he smiled, wondering if he could somehow trick her into letting something slip. He really did not believe that she was a mere foreigner who happened to have teal hair and looked like she was the same age as the deceased Hatsune daughter. It was much too coincidental, and Len did not believe in mere coincidence. "The Sakine family is hot-headed, but they are generous and have good hearts. The counties over which they hold rule love them dearly. They are the lowest ranked out of the four founding families, if the four can even be ranked at all. The families all hold the peerage of Duke and Duchess, but…the Sakine family presides over the fewest counties, I suppose."

"What of the others?" he steered them easily away from the larger crowd, towards an area with fewer people – mostly the older aristocrats, who showed less interest in either him or her, more interested in building ties and relationships with others of their noble rank. The two of them ended up near the window, which was not as well-illuminated as the rest of the ballroom. Perhaps they would have some privacy here, and he would not have to deal with other noblemen trying to ease their way into taking over his place and dancing with Cinderella. He had no time for such theatrics.

"The Kamui family only has one son, who is my father, the king. Technically, he has nephews and nieces, but these nephews will come behind me in line for the throne. The king has specifically named me his heir, much to their displeasure," he laughed sourly. "They have one county more than the Sakine family. After that…the Kagamine family," he paused, the name falling flat on his tongue. He still called himself a Kagamine, unwilling to totally accept his role of the prince and take on his adopted father's family name. Technically, Len was still the Marquis of Kinsen, since his father had no right to take away his title, but it was a title that he would never use, personally. It brought back too many memories of a time gone past, and not all of those memories were entirely pleasant.

"You seem to be unsure of yourself. Could it be that your knowledge of your own history is not as up to par as it seems?" she asked, almost sly. His smile returned – she was unlike many other aristocrats indeed. The faint moonlight that shone through the window illuminated her face, leaving the rest of her body in darkness. He was suddenly quite tempted to reach over and yank away her mask. He was so curious about what she looked like. Green eyes, teal hair, pale skin…she cut a striking figure, and her mask only added to her air of ambiguity. Perhaps that was why he found her so intriguing.

"No, I am simply gathering my thoughts," he pursed his lips. "The Kagamine family. Where do I start? They have a legacy for sure," he said blithely. "The Duke of Fendley has many titles to his name, the Marquis of Kinsen being one, along with the Viscount of Venin and Earl of Insidia. It's a pity they have no heir apparent. But the Duke is young and he will have time to marry another woman, who might perhaps bear him a son. I do not know," Len turned away from her, looking out of the window. "Nor is it my business to care," he added. "As for the last family, the Hatsune family…well, they used to be highly favoured, they were loved by their people. But from what I heard, the head of family died six years ago and the entire bloodline has been in disarray ever since. I don't know what Dowager Duchess Hatsune is doing, but from rumours among the aristocracy, the family is going to disappear. And then we'll be left with three founding families. It's tragic, don't you agree?"

He shot her a sideways glance, trying to see if his words had affected her in the slightest. But with that infernal mask on, he had no idea what she was thinking. "It does sound rather upsetting," she agreed, voice perfectly placid. "Does the Hatsune family not have any descendants at all? You speak of a dowager – surely she had some sons or daughters," she observed. A hint of doubt sprang up in him – was she just a good actress or was she truly unaware of the Hatsune family's situation? He thought that by bringing up her tragic family history she might be incensed to defend her family's honour, but that did not appear to be happening. Perhaps his father was wrong…but no, he did not believe that his father would have suspected her for nothing. There had to be more to this girl.

"She married into the family after the death of the previous Duchess, and from what I know, she and the late Duke had no children," he answered her. "In fact, some people question her standing in the family…she was not from another noble family, and people doubt her. They say a commoner has no place in the house of nobles, and that she lacks the proper knowledge and etiquette to maintain the dukedom," he repeated the rumours he heard from other aristocrats when they had their audience with the king, discussing the downfall of one of the country's greatest families. "If only the Hatsune bloodline did not die out! The late Duke had one daughter, but she's dead too, I heard. No one ever heard anything about her. The king would recognise her right to the title. She's the only child, after all. And if she took the title of the Duchess of Cante, no one would question her appropriateness."

"Dead?" the girl repeated, now sounding confused. "How did she die? Was she ill?" here was his first hint that perhaps she was who they thought she was. She didn't just sound confused – she sounded almost accusatory, as though she could not believe the girl they were speaking of was dead. And why would anyone behave that way unless they were not truly gone? He hid a smile, still looking out of the window so that he did not have to meet her gaze and she would not see the knowing smirk on his face.

"People say she perished in the fire which…killed," he was reluctant to use such a word in this setting, but he could come up with no other euphemism, "her father, six years ago. She was in the same summer cottage as her father, apparently he was on business there. Neither of them got out of the house in time," she stayed silent, and after a few moments he turned to look at her, curious about her lack of reaction. He saw that she was staring intently at the floor, hands clasped together. "Are you all right, Cinderella?" he asked, a little concerned now. This did not seem like characteristic behaviour from her. He was used to her witty comments and her sharp, almost doubtful questions – this strange quietness was most unlike her. Even while standing before his father she had not been totally silent.

"Yes, I'm fine," she looked up, a smile plastered onto her face. He could tell it was fake. He had three years to get used to forced smiles and faked laughter. "I just…need to be leaving now. My aunt will be curious about where I am. She does not like me to stay out late," she curtseyed, making him think back to last night when they first met and she was nervous, perhaps even scared of him. And he knew that something was most definitely wrong, something had affected her during the course of their conversation. It made him all the more certain that, even if she was not the supposedly dead Hatsune Miku, she was involved with the missing duchess somehow, and he would get to the bottom of it. He gave his father his word. "I will see you again tomorrow, Prince Romeo," this was said quickly, and before he could react she turned around, slipping away into the dancing crowd.

"Well, drat," he muttered, staring at the little gap in the crowd through which she had disappeared – a few seconds later, the gap closed up, and she was completely gone. "I was just beginning to uncover hints that she's not a mere foreigner…she has to be the missing girl," he turned to look out of the window once more, hoping that staying in the darkness here would camouflage him and hide him from the other nobles a little while longer. "Cinderella…" the name rolled off his tongue, no longer as awkward for him to say as it was the first time. "I'd like to know you better. You say you want to marry a nobleman, don't you?" he mused. "Perhaps you'd like to marry a prince instead?"


	7. Chapter 7

"Ridiculous," Anastasia muttered as she let herself into the mansion, "utterly ridiculous!" her mother and sister followed her inside, and with an imperious wave of her hand, she sent the coachman away. He bowed low and backed away down the driveway, and she slammed the door shut.

"There will be other men," her mother tried to reassure her, but Anastasia turned on the woman, brown eyes blazing. Her mother flinched, frightened of her daughter's temper. Anastasia was rarely pushed to true anger, but when she became upset, she could be extremely intimidating.

"Other men?" she scoffed. "Other men! You would have me throw aside my whole future and reputation simply to save his pride!" she cried out. Miku came out from the kitchen, finally tiring of all the commotion and wishing to see for herself what was going on. Lucinda simply looked away from her sister and mother, not wishing to have any part in this conflict. To begin with, she had never thought that her boring older sister could possibly have had a fiancé – this shocked her.

"You know that Viscountess Shion and I were merely discussing the possibility of you marrying their son. It was not a definite arrangement," the older woman tried to calm her daughter, who was trembling with anger. "Ultimately, her son said that he is still interested in our family. You might not be the one he wishes to marry, but we will still be united with the Shions – wasn't that what you wished for? For us to be joined with another noble family, so that you will not be destitute when I pass on?"

"It is not merely about my plans now!" Anastasia was screeching, the first time Miku had seen the girl do such a thing. Screeching was Lucinda's forte, not Anastasia's. "To think – to think that Shion Kaito would choose Lucinda over myself! They have never even spoken!" she seethed. "And it does not matter whether or not the decision was finalised – my reputation, it's gone. He declared his intention to marry another woman of our family in front of everyone at the ball!" Anastasia actually broke down here, covering her face with her hands and sobbing. No one knew what to do.

Lucinda, unused to doing anything other than ranting about her older sister, hesitantly reached out to touch Anastasia's shoulder. However, Anastasia shook her hand off and ran from the parlour, tears streaming down her face. She saw Miku standing by the stairs, right outside the kitchen, and her face twisted into an expression of true loathing, a look which Miku gladly returned. "You heard _absolutely nothing_ ," she hissed at Miku, before deliberately shoving Miku aside and rushing away up the stairs. Miku caught her balance quickly, glaring up at the fleeing girl. With such behaviour, it was unsurprising that her engagement was called off. But what surprised her was the fact that she was even promised to begin with, and promised to the young lord she met just earlier, Shion Kaito.

To marry another woman of their family…somehow, she already knew that it was her. She was at the ball too, and she knew that Lord Shion had not even looked at Lucinda once – well, other than the initial look of horror all the noblemen gave the younger stepsister as a result of her disastrous fashion choices – and since she told him that she was her stepmother's niece, he probably decided that marrying her would have the same effect for the Hatsune family as marrying Anastasia.

His attentions flattered her, they really did, but she could not marry him. There was only one person she was willing to give up her singlehood for, and that was not Shion Kaito. She would not marry out of love, for love was not high on her list of priorities. No, if she married, it would only be to serve a greater purpose; besides, she didn't even know if she really wanted to be romantically involved with the prince to begin with. There were no romantic feelings on her side, and it made her wonder if marrying a royal would simply tie her down to the palace. She didn't want to be bogged down with royal affairs and business. She wanted to be free to travel and see the world, not be the princess of the kingdom.

But marriage was also her safest bet…it would be wiser to get the prince's attention first before thinking about ways to delay the formal marriage ceremony. She was sure that, as long as they were engaged, she would be able to leave this mansion, and as long as she and the prince were not formally married before the eyes of the Church, she had a better chance of running away from the palace. After all, the palace wouldn't lock her up the same way her stepsisters did, surely.

But she was getting ahead of herself. It had been two nights and she still had yet to receive anything resembling a marriage proposal from the prince, though he was stubbornly trying to make her move to the palace and take the position of royal entertainer. It was a nice job offer, but she would only accept it as a desperate alternative. Until the third night was over, she would still set her sights on becoming his fiancée. _One step at a time, don't think about the future until you can get away from here_. If she thought too far ahead and convinced herself that marrying the prince was a bad idea, then she would just be stuck in the mansion again until she finally thought up of another plan.

"Anastasia thinks she's so beautiful that no man would ever choose me over her," Lucinda suddenly commented, voice droll. She looked bored. "I tried to make her feel better about her loss to her little sister, but she pushed me away, so it's not my fault. No one can say I didn't try," she looked at both her mother and stepsister, seeking support for her words. When both parties remained silent, she sighed exaggeratedly, clearly impatient. "I am extremely flattered by Anastasia's…ex-fiancé, but I don't even know him! Why should I marry him? Tell him to go back to Anastasia," she commanded her mother. The older woman shook her head helplessly, weak as always before her daughters.

"He has his sights set on you, Lucinda. He told me he absolutely _must_ marry the other young lady of our household, and try as we might, his mother and I were unable to change his mind. I'm afraid you will have to get married to him, dear daughter. Since you and your sister are unable to inherit the Duchess title from me…your standings in nobility are precarious. It is advisable to just take the interest of any noblemen as best as you can," her stepmother advised. Miku could not help but agree with her – for all her weakness and lack of character, her stepmother most certainly knew what she was doing.

Lucinda sighed another exaggerated sigh. "Mother, I don't even know what he looks like. Are you really going to sell your youngest daughter away to a man she doesn't even know?" she retorted, while Miku suppressed a snort, unable to believe just how highly Lucinda thought of herself. To sell her away, as if she was extremely valuable! "Besides, I'm only interested in the prince," she added, and the mention of the prince caught Miku's attention, making her listen again. "After that strange girl left, he spoke to me, you know. We had a short discussion about the family history, and he does seem to be quite interested in the Hatsune family. Or me, specifically. I think I have a chance," she said dreamily, but Miku was too preoccupied with what Lucinda said to think of a stinging remark.

The prince was interested in the Hatsune family…she knew there was something amiss when he started talking about the four founding families, even bringing up the painful fall of her family from power in the process. But the most shocking part was when he mentioned that she, Hatsune Miku, the only daughter of the Hatsune family, was dead. Because the last she checked, she was clearly still perfectly alive and healthy. She had no idea where the rumour about her being dead started, because she most certainly had not perished in…in _that_ fire, and she wanted to know the truth. Who was the person who spread such falsities, and what were their intentions in doing such a thing?

After she found out about the mystery that surrounded her family and her supposed death, she had actually been tempted to tell the prince outright that she was Hatsune Miku, and ask him to rescue her from her ill treatment at the hands of her stepfamily. But there were a few reasons she had not done so. One was her pride – she had always been proud and a strong believer in her own ability, and she wanted to run away using that same ability. Confessing her true identity was something she would probably do if she failed to marry the prince and ended up moving to the palace as simply his companion – if her stepfamily tried to retrieve her from the palace, then she would finally reveal her true identity and shed light on the suffering they put her through, but until then she wanted to succeed because of her own wit and planning, not simply because of a mysterious family legacy.

But it was also more than just her pride. The prince's interest, his mentioning of the rumours…she knew that he was interested in her, then. Perhaps he suspected her identity. But the thing was, how did he know? On the first night he seemed not to doubt her story at all. Maybe the king had said something – and if the king said something, what did he say? It might be helpful to her cause, but on the other hand, she might be wanted for treason. Maybe her father had done something to offend the crown – she didn't know and didn't want to think that way since she believed her father was a good man, but until today she still did not know how the fire which destroyed their summer cottage came about. It could have been the king's personal assassins or the work of some other twisted nobleman, jealous of the Hatsune family's wealth. Either way, until she was certain of the reasons why the prince wanted to know more about her, she would keep mum about her real identity.

It had been an absolute shock, being so closely interrogated by the prince like that – for, though he disguised his words as wit and tales of history, she knew she was being interrogated by him. His questions were careful and probing, and their aim was to make her slip, make her reveal something that would show she was not the foreigner she claimed to be. It was both quick thinking and sheer luck on her part that she had not reacted negatively. In a way, she was thankful for her mistreatment here – because of her mistreatment, she learnt how to suppress her real emotions and put on a façade of calm, and that was simply what she did when the prince's questioning took her by surprise.

Her stepmother was now speaking, and Miku stopped contemplating about her situation, instead listening to what the woman had to say. "He's the tall young noble with the navy hair and blue eyes, Lucinda," her stepmother was now describing the lord for her daughter's benefit. "The son of the Viscount of Chalice. You personally found him rather handsome – I vividly remember that you pointed him out to me and told me that he seems charming. That is Lord Shion, and the man who was supposed to be Anastasia's fiancé," at this description, Lucinda's eyes lit up in interest.

"Oh, so that's Lord Shion?" she glanced away from her mother, facing the staircase now, and from where she stood, Miku could see the look on her face – she was smiling like a cat which had just spotted a bowl full of cream. "That changes things. I would be absolutely delighted to talk to him about his sudden interest in our union at the ball tomorrow," she chirped, excitedly whirling around to face her mother once more. The older woman sighed, clearly relieved that Lucinda had come around.

But Miku was most definitely not relieved. In fact, upon hearing that Lucinda wanted to speak to Lord Shion at the ball tomorrow, she wanted to panic. She had to stop Lucinda and Lord Shion from speaking to each other – if she brought up the issue of their engagement, Lord Shion would no doubt state that he did not wish to marry Lucinda either, he was interested in the Dowager Duchess Hatsune's niece. And that would raise plenty of confusion, because her stepmother had no niece, at least not one who was attending the ball as well. And her ploy would almost definitely be found out.

But if she spent the whole night tomorrow distracting Lord Shion and getting him away from Lucinda, then how was she supposed to talk to the prince? She had to charm him too – which should be easier, now that she knew he was at least _interested_ in her, even if not romantically at the moment. If she continued avoiding all his questions his intrigue might grow to the point where he might actually like her, or at least that was what she hoped would happen. She personally had no experience with love or infatuation, having been locked up in this house since she was young. She did not know how people experienced feelings of attraction, but she knew that attraction probably stemmed from interest, so that was what she set out to do – make the prince interested in her.

She sighed quietly in frustration. Furthermore, there was nothing to prevent Lord Shion from coming to the manor with his carriage early in the evening tomorrow to look for her, now that he thought he knew who she was. That was the worst possible scenario she could envision, and the moment he mentioned the mystery girl with teal hair and said she claimed to be Dowager Duchess Hatsune's niece, sent from overseas…well, nothing good could possibly come out of that. Her best bet would simply be to pray fervently that his good manners and, as the prince put it, his 'stick-in-the-mud' tendencies would ensure that he did not surprise her. Hopefully her luck would not be as abysmal as it usually was. She was fortunate enough to attend the ball twice without rousing her stepfamily's suspicion – maybe her streak of good luck would continue and she would be able to attend again.

It had been a mistake allowing the navy haired lord to find her in the ball. Maybe she should have just stayed outside the throne room, waiting for the prince to come out, instead of going back down to the ball herself – she had managed to find her way alone by asking for directions from anyone she happened to come across, since she knew she just had to keep going down to the ground floor to find the ballroom. Maybe if she had just waited, Lord Shion would not have come to speak to her, since no one dared to approach her when she was with the prince, and she wouldn't be in this mess now.

But it was too late for regrets – she couldn't turn back time, after all. She lifted her gaze and saw Lucinda flouncing away from the parlour in the direction of the kitchen, clearly looking for her supper. She was left alone with her stepmother, who was looking right at her in a way reminiscent of how she stared at her while she was at the ball in the guise of Kamui Miki. Her heart suddenly sped up, and she began to wonder if her stepmother looked at her this way because she had suddenly put two and two together – she promptly glanced at the floor again, breaking their eye contact.

After a while, she heard the sound of footsteps and felt her stepmother brush past her, on the way up the stairs to her room. She kept her eyes down until she was sure her stepmother was gone, and when she finally heard the sound of a door opening and closing in the distance, she exhaled in relief, thankful that she hadn't been found out. She had no idea if her stepmother was actually aware of her presence in the ball, but she would be careful for the whole of tomorrow not to draw any more attention to herself. It was good that Lord Shion had rejected his engagement to Anastasia then, actually – if Anastasia had not been so distraught, maybe her stepfamily would have paid more attention to the mysterious girl at the ball. But now they were more concerned about Anastasia.

She just hoped that Anastasia would not be so distraught that she refused to attend the ball the next night. If that happened then there was no way she would be able to sneak out of the house…or was there? An idea came to mind, and she hurried off to the manor's library to see if her idea was viable. Of course, she didn't know if Anastasia would be staying home tomorrow night or not, but just in case she was, it would be better to prepare now and ensure she had the necessary ingredients.

* * *

Thankfully, the Hatsune household rarely used the herbs they had, and the only herb they lacked was chamomile, which was common enough in the market. Drawing up a list of all the foodstuffs they needed to replenish, she added chamomile at the bottom and sent one of the servants out to get the items.

While the other servants were in the house, doing their work in the day, she busied herself with her herbal concoction. None of the other servants bothered her, and both Lucinda and her stepmother were cooped up in Anastasia's room all day, attempting to comfort the spurned girl, so she was left undisturbed for most of the morning and afternoon. She lifted the lid of the kettle again, checking the liquid, and smelled the calming scent of an herbal tea infusion as the fumes wafted up to her nose. She had added lavender, chamomile, valerian and passionflower, and though the scent of so many different herbs was rather strange, it was also somewhat calming and drowsiness-inducing.

A small smile formed on her face and she placed the lid back on the kettle. The other servants were looking at her curiously, but none of them approached her to ask what she was doing, so she said nothing about what she was brewing either. She spent a few hours last night reading up on the books in their library – her mother was an avid reader in the past, and the library was filled with books on all sorts of different subjects. She had gone to the section with books about gardening and herbs, and started doing research on which herbs had the strongest sedative properties.

Thankfully all of the herbs she decided to use were rather common, and it didn't take long for her to find all the herbs she needed and begin brewing her tea. If, she decided, Anastasia decided to stay at home all night, she would simply feed her stepsister some of her herbal tea and wait for the sedative effect to kick in before she departed for the ball herself. On the other hand, if Anastasia decided to attend the ball…well, perhaps she would still keep the tea. She could always just give it to Lucinda and Anastasia the day after the ball so she could get some peace and quiet – though she definitely hoped that she wouldn't have to stay on in the manor after tonight's ball.

" _Cinderella_!" Lucinda's voice pierced through the air, snapping her out of her idle reverie. She instantly left her simmering tea, leaving the kitchen to answer to her stepsister. Though most of the servants continued ignoring her, all of them used to her treatment by the stepsisters, she saw one or two of them turning to give her sympathetic looks. The servants were employed by her stepfamily and most of them were not really her friends, only her co-workers – but they still felt pity for her. Other than her stepfamily and herself, the servants were the only people who knew how she, the true heir to the Hatsune family legacy, was treated in her family home. Again, she did not seek her family's wealth or reputation; she simply wished to see the world, but she also knew that if she had been older when her parents passed, if her father had not married this new woman, she wouldn't be in this situation.

If only she had been left under the care of a guardian until she was eighteen and able to inherit her father's title without any interference from his new wife…she reached Lucinda's door, the floor above the kitchen, and knocked thrice before she entered. She had barely closed the door behind her when Lucinda started shrieking again, this time wordlessly – she glanced upwards and her eyes widened as she took in her first proper glimpse of the girl today. Lucinda's face was covered in…it seemed almost vulgar to say such a word, but her face was covered in _pimples_ and she looked rather foul, to tell the truth. "Look at my face!" Lucinda screeched. "Look at my _beautiful_ face!"

"What happened?" Miku asked, pressing her lips together and ferociously fighting the urge to laugh. Lucinda seemed too distracted by her outbreak to notice how Miku was shaking as she attempted to maintain her calm. "Your skin was fine just last night. Did you…do something you shouldn't have?"

"I did nothing!" Lucinda spat. "It must have been Anastasia…that _whore_! She was just jealous of me being chosen over her! I always told her she was ugly!" Lucinda picked up one of the jewellery boxes on her dresser and, with yet another scream of frustration, dashed it to the ground at her feet. Miku stared as the box shattered, precious pearls and gems rolling everywhere as the jewellery inside it broke apart. "She gave me some pastries to eat last night. I knew there was something strange going on – she is never so nice to me – but I thought maybe this was just her attempt at losing gracefully so I ate one. When I woke up today, I went straight to Anastasia's room to comfort her as Mother asked me to. I didn't even check my reflection in the mirror! Anastasia wouldn't stop giggling as I fussed over her, so I finally looked into her mirror and this is what I see! My face is utterly ruined!"

Miku listened to Lucinda's agitated story, blinking as she tried to understand the situation at hand. She was not the most talented at herbalism, but she had read books full of herbal knowledge just last night and from what she knew, there didn't seem to be any herbs which could cause such a facial outbreak. Lucinda did not exaggerate how bad her condition was – Miku struggled to prevent herself from staring at any part of her face for too long. For example, there was a whole cluster of large red pimples on Lucinda's left cheek and another triangular formation of pimples on her forehead. They were angry looking, giant red boils, and no amount of powder would cover that up.

"Honestly, Lucinda, in all my knowledge there is no herb which can cause _this_ to occur, and if you suspect that it was something in the pastry Anastasia gave you…" Miku paused. "But where did she get the pastry from?" she asked, puzzled. "Last night, the only food left in the house was bread and cheese and milk. There were no pastries in the pantry. Unless she bought another pastry elsewhere before returning to the house and placed, well, _something_ in it, to make your face…less beautiful," she said tactfully, not wanting to point out just how terrible Lucinda's skin was at the moment.

"She took the pastry from the table at the ball," Lucinda appeared to have calmed down slightly now, though her eyes still flashed with fury. Miku tried her best to keep her gaze away from her nose, where another bright red pimple was throbbing away in the most distracting manner. "She said it was excellent and that she saved me one, which was most strange because Anastasia hates me, just like how I dislike her. Oh, I was such a fool," Lucinda moaned, "to have trusted my sister!"

"Did you ever consider the possibility that your outbreak is merely a coincidence?" because Miku failed to see how Anastasia could have possibly spiked a pastry if it was taken at the ball. It was true that Anastasia's sudden thoughtfulness with regards to Lucinda was unusual, but there couldn't have been anything wrong with the pastry – it was meant for the guests at the ball, after all. And again, Miku had absolutely no knowledge regarding herbs which could possibly cause acne. She didn't think that such an herb even existed. It was impossible for this mysterious pastry to be tainted.

"A coincidence?" Lucinda had gone back to screeching again. "A _coincidence_? Don't be ridiculous! It can't possibly have been a coincidence! How many times has my skin suffered from this affliction? It never has!" she shook her head furiously. Miku, however, knew the truth. Lucinda was highly prone to breakouts, especially when she stood in sunlight. It was just something that Lucinda was unwilling to acknowledge, so she always pretended that her skin was flawless and nothing had ever marred it before. "Anastasia caused this. She said she's not going to the ball tonight, because she does not want to face a man who could love me instead of her. Well," Lucinda said dramatically, drawing herself up to her full height – which wasn't very tall, to be honest – as her eyes flashed with determined fury, "I will stay in the manor tonight as well, and make her wish she had never opted to stay at home!" she declared. Miku kept a smile fixed on her face, though inwardly she groaned.

Luckily she had thought of Anastasia possibly staying at home for the third night of the ball, and luckily she had brewed so much tea that she would have more than enough for both Anastasia and Lucinda. She would probably have just enough left for her stepmother too, since it was likely that the older woman would not attend the ball if her daughters were not going. It would be maybe another hour or two before the tea was ready, which meant she didn't have much time – it was already mid-afternoon, and she would have to start getting ready for the ball by the evening. Maybe she ought to go check on her tea more often from this point onwards, to make sure it was fine.

With a few distracted words meant to comfort Lucinda – who, in all honesty, did not deserve to be comforted given the hell the girl put her through every day – and to excuse herself, she backed out of the room and went back down the stairs to the kitchen. As she walked down the hallway to the stairs though, she felt a prickling feeling on her back. Turning around, she met Anastasia's gaze – the older stepsister had just watched her leave Lucinda's room, and was watching her with something almost like hostility in her eyes. Those brown eyes narrowed, and then she ducked back into her room, slamming the door shut. Miku did not react, but she wondered about her strange behaviour.

Anastasia usually did not pay her so much attention, nor did she watch her this much. Did the older stepsister know that she was the girl at the ball, and was simply choosing not to say so? But that explanation made no sense – why would Anastasia choose to remain silent if she really suspected that Miku was attending the ball in secret? But she could think of no other reason why Anastasia would suddenly treat her with more hostility than usual. Miku had done nothing to wrong the girl.

She went down the stairs back to the kitchen, where she had spent most of her day, just waiting for her tea to reach its maximum potency. Yes, she would pour out enough for three cups – just enough for everyone in her stepfamily. She actually considered whether she should sedate her stepmother as well, whom she did not dislike as much as she did Anastasia and Lucinda, but she decided that it would be better to be safe than sorry, and that since she was going to sedate the stepsisters anyway she might as well do the same to their mother. She would have too much tea left over if otherwise.

The minutes ticked past, and slowly all the servants completed their duties for the day, bidding her farewell as they left the house. She remained in the kitchen, just watching her kettle and waiting as the smell of herbs got stronger and stronger. Finally, as the sun started to set, turning the sky outside the window orange and pink, and as the last servant finally finished his chores and left the manor, she decided that the tea had brewed for long enough, and was now ready for her to serve.

Tossing some sand on the fire, she put on her gloves and grasped the handle of the kettle, taking it away from the fireplace. She would leave the fire to burn out by itself – the fire was already small anyway, it would only be a matter of time before it extinguished itself. Besides, she had never liked fire, and never wanted anything to do with it. She was only so close to fire now because she had no choice – she had to have a heat source to create her herbal infusion. The warmth of the handle radiated even through the thick oven mitts she wore, and she was thankful when she could put the kettle down on the smooth marble counter. She searched around the cups, trying to find the three largest they had.

She found the three cups and placed them next to the kettle. With a deep breath, oven mitts still on, she lifted the kettle and carefully poured the tea out into the first cup. The liquid that came out was a rich, dark amber, and the smell was strangely intoxicating – it was completely unlike anything she had ever smelled before. Instinctively, her nose wrinkled, and when she was done pouring out the liquid into the first cup she quickly pushed the filled cup away from her. Hopefully, the three women she was about to serve the tea to would not pay too much attention to the scent and just drink the tea. After all, whenever she brought Anastasia and Lucinda water, they did not even bother to look at the contents, just grabbing the cup from her and immediately downing everything.

She continued pouring the sedative brew into the other two cups, and hastily looked around the kitchen, searching for a tray to put the cups on – she could only hold two cups at a time, and she didn't want to go down from the rooms to the kitchen to get the third cup. After she found the tray, she placed the now empty kettle aside, making a mental note to clean the kettle and get rid of all the herbs left at the bottom. Then, carefully placing the cups on the tray and balancing the tray on one hand, she went up the stairs in search of the first person who would drink her infusion – Lucinda, the most gullible and most _annoying_ out of the three who made up her stepfamily.

She knocked on Lucinda's door, and heard a sullen "Come in" shortly after knocking. Pushing the door open with her free hand, she glanced inside to see what Lucinda was doing – she was sitting in front of her dresser, staring at her reflection, fingers tracing the large pimples which covered her face. "What do you want?" Lucinda noticed who had come in and turned away from the mirror, eyes narrowing at her suspiciously. Her hands were covering her cheeks, hiding the pimples from view.

"I made a herbal concoction which, according to books, will help you recover from your outbreak as quickly as possible," she answered smoothly. Lucinda's eyebrows lifted in curiosity as Miku came closer, the intoxicating, slightly bitter smell of herbs wafting over from the tray. "In fact, if you rest a while after taking this drink, your pimples might even disappear quickly enough for you to attend the ball tonight," she added slyly, knowing that would no doubt pique Lucinda's interest.

"Really?" Lucinda looked at the cups on the tray then up at her, still suspicious. "Well, I'll believe what you say. Of course you would help me recover. I'm such a darling, and I treat you so well," she simpered, grabbing one glass from the tray and draining it quickly. Miku simply continued smiling, though she was absolutely disgusted by what Lucinda claimed – she was not a darling, and she had never treated Miku well. Lucinda then placed the now empty glass on the dresser, face screwed up in disgust. "It is terribly bitter. What a foul herbal concoction. But I am feeling rather sleepy now…" her eyelids fluttered and she yawned, rising from her dresser. Miku was a little surprised – she had not expected the concoction to take effect so quickly. "I shall rest, and when I wake up, my face will be clear and perfect again, like you say. Now get out of here, I need my beauty sleep," she ordered.

Miku did as Lucinda ordered, though she wished she could snap back at the brat, saying that no amount of sleep would be able to save the ugliness of her face. But of course that would just ruin her plans, so she said nothing. She decided that the next person she would give the drink to would be Anastasia, who would hopefully still be so upset about her broken engagement that she would drink the tea without question. She already created a list of benefits for this tea that she hoped would convince Anastasia to drink it. Anastasia would no doubt be the hardest to persuade.

She knocked on the door, and hearing no answer, she pushed it open and entered the room. Anastasia was sitting on her bed, back facing the wall as she did something with her hands – presumably more knitting. She glanced around when Miku opened the door, face twisted into a scowl. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying. "What do you want?" she spat, and for a moment she looked nothing like the noble lady she claimed to be. She was unkempt, unruly and extremely unattractive, and Miku decided that there would be no way she could ever see Anastasia as even remotely pretty again, not after seeing her in this dishevelled state. Her brown hair was messy – she clearly had not bothered to brush her hair upon waking. Crust from dried tears covered her face, and her nose was slightly red and runny. Miku wasn't sure if she looked more disgusting or pitiful.

"I couldn't help but overhear what happened last night," she said carefully, approaching the girl. Anastasia, upon noticing her coming nearer, flung one of the things she was holding at her – Miku sidestepped, narrowly dodging a knitting needle. "Of course, it's a terrible shame that the lord chose Lucinda. We all know that you, as the eldest, should be the first to marry, and that of course you are much more graceful and elegant than Lucinda is," she had always been an excellent liar.

Anastasia's face was still contorted into a grimace. "I do not need your flattery. I did not love him. I had only met him twice before tonight's ball, and that was only because Mother arranged for us to meet. But how dare he spurn me in front of all the guests at the ball…!" Anastasia must have been still considerably upset to show any sign of distress in front of Miku. "How dare he tell me that he is interested in another woman from my family…this is why I never told Lucinda," she snarled, lips drawing back from her teeth. "I knew that insufferable brat would simply mock me and try to seduce my husband-to-be if she knew I actually had a fiancé. She detests me so – but oh, who would have thought that even with my precautions, she still triumphed over me for my fiancé's affections?" she cried. "She gets anything she wants, being the spoilt brat she is, whereas I slave away for nothing!"

Miku honestly failed to see how Anastasia slaved away for _anything_ , but chose not to speak her opinion. "Well, I do understand," she murmured, coming a little closer – the dishevelled girl was staring at the wall, and Miku was no longer sure if she was really aware of her presence or not. "So I brewed some tea. It is good for relieving stress. It will calm you and help you to relax," she placed the tray on the bedside table, holding out a glass for Anastasia. "It will help you," she repeated.

Suddenly, Anastasia lunged out, grabbing the cup from Miku's hands. Abruptly, she drained the dark brown contents, then tossed the empty cup at the opposite wall. The cup broke, shattering into tiny fragments. "I drank it," she snapped. "Now stop bothering me and leave me alone. Don't forget to clean that up – I'm going to take a nap now, and I want to see the broken pieces all gone before I wake up," with that warning, she set aside her knitting and lay down on her bed, curling up and turning away from her. Miku let the smile drop from her face, picked up the tray with the last cup of tea and walked out of the room, wishing she could slam the door but not wanting to wake Anastasia up. She would not clean up the broken pieces. Anastasia could do that by herself.

Finally, she only had her stepmother to contend with. She went down the passageway to the very last door and knocked, awaiting her stepmother's reply. When she heard nothing, she pushed the door open and saw that her stepmother was already fast asleep in bed, still in her daytime wear. Clearly, handling Anastasia while she was being moody was exhausting enough to send her stepmother right to sleep. Thankful that she didn't have to talk to the woman, who was too perceptive for her liking, she set the cup of tea on the bedside table and hoped that when the woman woke up, she would just drink the sedative tea and go right back to bed. Miku wanted to have as much time as possible at the ball.

All her tea given, she decided to make one last check on all three women before she started her preparations – she wanted them to be as deeply asleep as possible, so that she would not be interrupted while she bathed or otherwise got ready. Lucinda and Anastasia were both fast asleep when she checked their rooms, and she left her stepmother's room alone since she had been there the most recently. Satisfied that they were all out cold, she went up to the shared bathroom on the second floor – it was not as pleasant as Lucinda's bathroom, but it would do the job of cleaning her perfectly well.

Then she would dress herself up as best as she could and depart for the final night. She was quite excited – tonight, she would wear her loveliest dress, and she was eager to see what she would look like in it. The events of the third night should be quite interesting, since it was the final night of the ball. She wondered what sort of grand finale the prince had in store for all his guests, and wondered whether tonight, she would finally be able to receive a marriage proposal.

* * *

 **A/N** : _The sedative properties of herbs have been greatly exaggerated here. While valerian and passionflower are strong natural sedatives, and lavender and chamomile are relaxants which help to soothe anxiety and promote good rest, a herbal infusion made from these should not induce immediate drowsiness - only chemicals are able to cause instant unconsciousness. Additionally, herbs are not completely safe and it is always recommended to talk to your doctor or an experienced herbalist before using natural herbal remedies to combat insomnia._


	8. Chapter 8

She smoothed down the fabric of her voluminous dress – easily the most eye-catching outfit she had ever worn, this dress was a rich, almost bloody red, black lace trimming her collarbones and her waist. She felt so noticeable that it almost made her feel self-conscious.

But her mask would hide her identity. Her mask was black again today, with decorative silver swirls artfully placed on the edges to prevent it from looking too plain. She had tied her hair into a bun again, though she braided her hair first before wrapping her hair up so that her hairstyle would not be as plain as the first night. Overall, it was a look designed to leave an impression, and she certainly hoped she would make a good one. It could either be the start of a new life, or her last night of freedom in a long while, but either way she would be making the best out of her situation.

As she walked alone down the pathway from the mansion to the main gates, she started thinking about her transportation. She knew, of course, that Lord Shion would gladly send her to the ball again, but knowing what she did now, she wasn't sure if she wanted to be anywhere near him for any period of time. No doubt it would be…awkward, and if he ended up proposing to her while they were sitting in his carriage, she wouldn't know how to reject. Lord Shion was a gentleman indeed, and all noblemen were expected to hold up their gentlemanly behaviour, but she did not know him well enough to trust that he would not react badly to her rejection. So what should she do now?

As she slipped out to the main road and pushed the ornate iron gates back into position, she heard the clopping of hooves against the pavement and looked around – a carriage, drawn by two magnificent white horses, drew up right in front of her. She knew that this was not Lord Shion's carriage – while his was the typical hired basic black carriage, this particular carriage was painted white to match the horses and polished to a bright gleam, with thick curtains covering the windows so she could not see who was inside. Whoever was sitting inside this carriage had to be important.

The coachman turned to look at her – his face was expressionless, and he gestured for her to get onto the carriage. She hesitated, suspicious about such a setup. "Who is inside?" she asked, and he simply shook his head, gesturing more forcefully for her to get on. She was about to refuse when she heard the sound of another carriage approaching – looking in the direction of the sound, she saw a black carriage headed towards her, and she guessed that it was Lord Shion. Since she was extremely reluctant to speak with the young noble tonight, this left her little choice, so she quickly got onto the white carriage. As soon as she was seated inside, the horses trotted away, heading down the road.

Glad to be away from the potentially embarrassing situation of facing Lord Shion, she smoothed her hair back and looked up to see who she was now travelling with. She laid eyes on another young nobleman, sitting next to the window with his chin resting on the back of his hand, his elbow placed on the window sill. He was vaguely familiar, and she tried to remember who he was for she was sure she had seen him at the ball – suddenly, she remembered the prince whispering against her ear and placed a name to the bored looking gentleman opposite her. "You're the Viscount of Lexane," she said slowly.

"Oh, so you know me after all. I thought you might not, being a foreigner," he had been looking out of a small gap in the curtains, watching the road go past. At the sound of her voice, his gaze drifted over to her, and she noticed the strangely coloured eyes the prince had pointed out to her last night through his plain white mask – one green and one blue. If she took into account his silver hair as well, he certainly had a strange appearance, but he was not unpleasant to look at.

"Why are you…how do you even know where I live?" she asked, eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. "Of course I appreciate your thoughtfulness in giving me a lift to the ball Viscount, but I am curious about how you knew anything about me – we did not speak at all last night, if I remember…"

"Of course we didn't speak, since the prince was with you every hour of the ball," came the bored drawl. The viscount looked at her now, one eyebrow raised. "But the ball buzzes with rumours about the strange lady no one has ever seen before, and of course I had to come and see for myself if you are, indeed, the niece of Dowager Duchess Hatsune. It seems that you really do live with her, don't you, Lady Kamui?" he tilted his head, awaiting her response. She nodded, going along with her story, though it rather annoyed her because this meant that Lord Shion had been talking about her origins all night yesterday. He was the only noble to which she said anything about her identity, fake or not.

Did it mean that the prince knew too, then? The realisation that the prince could easily have heard the rumours as well made her heart speed up. Then he would know that she was lying, and so would the king – the royal family would definitely know whether or not a person named Kamui Miki existed in their family tree. She could only hope that the royalty would not punish or condemn her tonight, if that was the case. "Anyway, I came to your mansion today because I wanted to speak to you. I was readily prepared to ask the Dowager Duchess if she was willing to let you sit with me instead today, but it seemed that this wasn't necessary?" she could tell that he was asking her where her 'aunt' was.

"My aunt is feeling poorly today, as are my cousins. They all will not be attending the ball. They have not been feeling too well the entire week, so I am surprised they went at all the past two nights," she answered. A lazy smirk flitted across his face, and she frowned. "What amuses you so, Viscount?"

"Oh, I wouldn't have expected your two cousins to attend even if they weren't feeling poorly. After the son of the Viscount of Chalice rejected Lady Anastasia so cruelly, it would have been shocking if she decided to come and face him again. Though it would have been interesting if she did, to show that she isn't defeated by the rejection of a man," he sighed. "It's a pity that didn't happen. I was hoping for an interesting show, but what can you expect of someone who isn't even of noble blood?"

She was not sure whether she liked this nobleman or not. On one hand, his keen observation of the stepsisters and outright disdain for them was rather entertaining. On the other hand, the casual way he expressed his views was…almost offensive. She knew that it was deeply ingrained within high society that blood was the most important – people from the lower classes who married nobility were often looked down upon and mocked behind their backs. Still, it made her feel uncomfortable – she was a noble lady, but she did the work of the lower classes too. What did that make her?

 _No, do not think that way. You were born a Hatsune, you are the heiress to the Hatsune estate. You are meant to be the Duchess of Cante, and you will get back your title and your freedom! And people will stop gossiping about the family legacy if you're the Duchess. Isn't that why you're at this ball?_ Her self-encouraging pep talk helped lift her spirits slightly, and she nodded, going back to their conversation. "To the nobility, pure blood is all," she remarked, and the Viscount of Lexane smiled, gaze returning to the window. She knew that he did not specially come to escort her to the ball just to say this, so she waited patiently for him to continue. For a while, they were completely silent.

Suddenly, he leant back into his plush leather seat, removing his elbow from the window sill and sitting properly now, uncrossing his legs. "You know I'm not here just for pleasantries," the earlier boredom that expressed itself so clearly in his voice was gone, replaced by something much more business-like. It made her sit up and listen. "My father, the Marquis of Archex, asked me to speak to you, so of course I am obliged to…" he frowned, reaching up to flick his long silver bangs out of his eyes. She waited – if a marquis sent his son to speak to her, then it definitely had to be important.

She first saw Utatane Piko, the Viscount of Lexane, at the ball last night, and the prince had pointed him out and mentioned that he was single. She remembered of course, but that sudden thought made her wonder if his reasons for being here were similar to Lord Shion. Now, the Viscount was someone whom she most certainly did not want to marry – there was something about his manner, the way he held himself, that made her feel vaguely uncomfortable but she wasn't too sure why.

"If you are part of the Kamui family," he started, "that would make you part of the four founding families of Ossyria. My father…has interest in the four families," he hesitated, gaze flitting away from her for just a split second. "He would like to speak to you, and ask you some questions. You're the only one he can ask," he explained before she could even speak, "since the king is too busy to entertain discussion that does not involve the country, the Hatsune family is all but extinct, the Sakine family have officially declared themselves separate from the Order centuries ago, and the Kagamine family…their Duke is difficult to talk to," the viscount said delicately. She pursed her lips.

"The Order?" she asked carefully. She certainly didn't know anything about an Order. She studied the four founding families when she was little, of course – every noble child had to know the very beginning of Ossyria's history. But her father never said anything about an Order involving the Four. Another thing which concerned her was the mention that the Hatsune family was extinct. It seemed that everyone really thought she was dead – it made her wonder if she would be able to reclaim her title. Before, she thought it would be easy if she had to – she would just tell the king and the prince about her true identity. But she began to think about how she would prove it. She had her father's teal hair and green eyes, and was almost the spitting image of him, but people could easily doctor their appearance nowadays, at least from what Lucinda talked about in the mansion. How could she prove, other than through appearance, that she was the supposedly dead daughter of her father?

"The Order of Bethlehem?" the way the viscount phrased it sounded more like a question than the statement it ought to be. "You are of age, are you not?" he asked, sounding puzzled. She nodded, fingers gripping her skirts nervously – she was frightened that he would unveil her true identity soon enough, since she didn't seem to know anything that he was talking about. The viscount made it seem like any descendant of the Four would know of this…mysterious Order, yet despite being the daughter of the Hatsune family, she knew nothing. Would he expose to everyone that she was a liar?

"I am but a distant cousin of the Kamui family, and I was born and raised overseas, in neighbouring Veracent," she explained, hoping that this would be sufficient excuse for her lack of knowledge. Her curiosity was piqued, however. She intended to find out more about this Order of Bethlehem if she could. "I know very little about Ossyria and its history, and all that I am aware of is the prestige that is awarded to my family. I am afraid that I am unable to help the Marquis," she said politely.

"How interesting…" the way he was looking at her made her feel strange, and she resisted the urge to fidget. "I am rather curious, how are you related to the king?" he changed the topic, and she realised that he was testing her. She took a deep breath – she could do this, she was more than capable of bluffing her way through – and hastily came up with a story. He waited, his face carefully blank, and she met his gaze steadily so that he would not think she was telling any lies.

"I am the king's distant cousin, descended from our great-grandfather. My grandmother, and the king's grandaunt, made the decision to move away to Veracent after her nephew's birth. I was born in Veracent myself, but I have been educated on the family legacy. I came to Ossyria because my mother sent me to live with my aunt…the Dowager Duchess Hatsune, whose cousin is married into my family," her heart was racing. Would the viscount know that she was lying? Every word she said was false – she didn't know anything about the Kamui family tree, and she definitely did not know if her stepmother had any cousins at all, much less one who married into the Kamui family. But she could not just admit that she knew nothing. She absolutely had to get to the prince's ball.

Cool surprise flitted over the viscount's face. "I did not know that the Dowager Duchess Hatsune had connections to the Kamui family. Isn't she a commoner?" he questioned. "Most commoners would not have been able to marry into the nobility…the fact that not one, but two, people from her family have been able to do that is remarkable," he commented. "Well, provided that you are not lying, of course," he added as an aside, his gaze never breaking away from hers. She maintained eye contact.

"Do you think I am lying then, Viscount?" she asked. He just continued staring at her, and she waited for him to respond, refusing to be intimidated by his silence. Finally, he laughed softly and shook his head, looking away from her out of the window. The ride seemed to be taking remarkably long, at least to her, and she looked out as well to see if they really were heading to the palace or if the viscount was actually trying to kidnap her to make her answer his questions. The road was still familiar, much to her relief. Maybe the journey just seemed to be shorter when she was with Lord Shion, who was much less intimidating despite the slightly annoying enthusiasm he displayed.

"You could be, for all I know. I don't take particular interest in your identity since you say that you know nothing about the Order. I'll have to tell my father then – he is an historian of sorts, and he has a personal interest in the affairs of the Four," he yawned, politely covering his mouth with his hand. "I am rather curious though, about why the prince takes such a particular interest in you. From what I know, he's still not over his fiancée…she was his cousin, you know. He was always going on about her while we were in school, it was almost sickening, but once he started no one could shut him up."

"You were from the same school?" she asked, surprised. The viscount smirked, though he still did not look away from the gap between the curtains. The scenery outside was changing, and she could feel the carriage tilting slightly – they had to be travelling up the slope towards the palace now.

"He was my junior back then…he had to be what, thirteen? He only attended school for two years before the tragedy happened, and now he's privately tutored since he's the prince. We both went to Easton College, you might have heard of it…?" she most certainly had. Easton College was a highly prestigious school especially for the young male aristocrats between the ages of thirteen to eighteen. Most noble ladies were tutored by governesses at home, while sons of nobility were sent to Easton. It was said that only aristocrats who attended Easton had any hope of surviving in high society. The fees were astronomical, but wealthy noblemen willingly paid the fees and sent their sons to Easton to obtain the prestige needed for their futures. It wasn't surprising that the prince had attended.

"Which family was he from before he became the prince?" she decided to ask, and the viscount looked at her with surprise on his face once more. The way he looked at her made her feel like she was supposed to know, but honestly the prince remained tight-lipped about his identity and she was curious after hearing about him and Easton College – she was certain the viscount would know his real name.

"You don't know? You've been with him for two nights and you still do not know…" the viscount shook his head, a faint smile on his face. "Well, allow me the honour of telling you, then. Before he became the Prince Romeo we all know today, he was known as –" but before the viscount could say anything, the carriage jerked to a stop and the door was pulled open. There, standing right outside the carriage was the blond haired prince himself, an unfamiliarly bright smile on his handsome face.

"I was expecting you, Piko," the prince said jovially, leaning against the carriage door. He was wearing a vivid red mask tonight with a black lace overlay, and he wore an outfit similar to last night as well – a pure black suit with a vivid red rose on his lapel. "Do let your father know that my father and I have received his gift. The Marquis of Archex has such wonderful generosity," his gaze drifted lazily to her, and then his blue eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, it's you," he remarked. "I didn't see you there. But how surprising – how did you manage to convince Piko here to give you a lift?"

Before she had to say anything, the viscount cut in with an equally bright smile on his face. "Nothing, I just saw her waiting outside the gates of her manor and decided it would be a good opportunity to have a conversation with her. After all, she's the mysterious girl no one knows, and I'm glad to say that I might know her a little better now," his gaze slid over to meet hers, and even with the mask on she could see the warning in his eyes. He didn't want her to reveal anything about what they were talking about…the prince, upon listening to this, just shook his head and moved away from the door.

The viscount got out of the carriage first, and once he was standing upon the ground he turned back and held his hand out for her. She took it, and he helped her out of the carriage as well, closing the door behind her. He then nodded towards the coachman, and the horses trotted off again, no doubt idling elsewhere until the viscount was ready to leave the festivities. The prince and the viscount then set off towards the palace, she following hurriedly behind them. She was aware, once again, of the looks of curiosity which were directed her way as the three of them went through the courtyard.

"The Marquis gave us a most generous gift this time…I dare say my father will be pleased. He has not seen it yet, of course, but I will unveil it for him tonight at the ball. You should be honoured, Senior," the prince casually spoke to the viscount. The title by which he addressed the older boy made Miku blink – it was the first time he had called another nobleman anything other than his title. Senior…it had to be related to his time spent at Easton College as a student. Perhaps they were once close.

"My father searched for this present for a long time. He said that only this treasure could be worthy of your coming-of-age," the viscount replied. "Though of course, I know that you would enjoy less expensive gifts as well. A well-made apple and cinnamon pie would always lift your spirits, if I recall correctly. At the very least, that was what you always bullied your juniors into making for you."

"It is not bullying. They offered to help," the prince responded almost sullenly, and a smile crossed the viscount's lips once more. "Anyway, how do you find the viscount, Cinderella?" he turned to her and asked, ignoring the puzzled look on the viscount's face when he used the nickname she told him. "He is a remarkably charming man, isn't he? He was my senior back when I attended Easton College," the prince smirked knowingly, "and he was never bothered by the sports and games that our dormitory was so proud of. Not that he was a terrible cricketer or sailor, but he was…well…"

"I was better than you were, and you are just sore that you had to practice more to catch up to my standards," the viscount cut in archly, and the prince laughed freely. He really did seem to be enjoying himself, but she couldn't help but wonder how much of all this was a mere act. After all, last night when he spoke so formally to Lord Shion, she knew that his behaviour did not reflect his true personality. For all she knew, how he was behaving with the viscount now was just pretence as well. The prince was a remarkably good actor, something she had realised since the night before.

"Well, I think the viscount is very charming. He has a very elegant manner of speaking," she shared her thoughts, careful not to reveal anything about what they discussed in the carriage – she was sure he had suspicions about her true identity, and if she said nothing about what he asked her, then she was sure he wouldn't reveal her secrets either. The viscount inclined his head towards her, a carefully neutral expression on his face, and the prince lifted his eyebrows though thankfully he accepted her observations. Then he turned back towards the viscount, who hastily smiled again, making it look like he was enjoying himself.

"We are near the ballroom, I'm sure you do not need to be escorted any further. I wish to speak to Cinderella here about certain matters, so I'm afraid I cannot join you for now, Senior," the prince sounded almost apologetic. The viscount acknowledged this and waved them on their way, confident that she would not let slip any sensitive information. Of course she wouldn't – it wasn't like the prince was related to this business with the Order, was he? Other than the fact that he was the adopted son of the Kamui family…but if the viscount, who clearly was on friendly terms with the prince came to her, a complete stranger, rather than to the prince to ask his questions, then it clearly indicated something about the prince's knowledge. It was most likely that he knew nothing as well.

But if the viscount had already asked the prince questions, then why did he not want her to say anything? The prince would know about the presence of the Order and its relation to the four founding families if the viscount had already asked him about it, wouldn't he? How confusing. "I would not recommend that you speak too much with the Viscount of Lexane," the prince made sure that the silver haired man was gone before he spoke. "He is not a bad man, but it takes a rather special type of person to be able to speak with him…he is very _intense_ about certain subjects."

"Oh, I can tell," she said drily, "he does have a very precise focus on whatever he is discussing at any particular moment. Speaking to him in the carriage was a…eye-opening experience," she finally settled on that, not knowing what else she could possibly say about the viscount. After all, the prince and the viscount seemed to be on cordial terms, at the very least. It would be very impolite if she was to say the truth and admit that he made her feel rather strange. There was something in his relaxed manner and the languid drawl of his voice which made the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

"Speaking of focus, would you be so kind as to tell me what you two were talking about in the carriage?" the prince asked, without any hint of a smile on his face. He looked like he was gravely serious – more serious than she had ever seen him, even when he was speaking to his father, the king. "I have been wondering about Piko's intentions for a while…no, not his. His father's," the prince shook his head. "Piko himself is hardly more than a puppet his father uses to carry out his deeds. The Marquis of Archex travels frequently doing God knows what, so his son, the viscount you just saw, often wraps up his loose ends and carries out his business here, in Ossyria. Again, I assure you that Piko is not a bad man," he cautioned, "he is just not a person everyone can talk to."

She thought hard about whether she ought to tell the truth or not. The viscount himself was not here to listen to what she said, and the prince seemed to genuinely need the information – at the very least, he was not his usual capricious self. But she feared greatly what would happen if she told the truth. This Order of Bethlehem was clearly a secret among the Four. Perhaps the prince did not know because he was not naturally a part of the Kamui family, and if she told him such a secret it might set in motion things she did not understand – and the viscount himself had suspicions about her, so she knew she could not afford to displease him. If she blabbered, he would not be happy. But she didn't want to be just sucked helplessly into the viscount's world of secrets and mystery, either.

Maybe this would be a secret just like her identity. She would reveal it when the time was right. If she ended up marrying the prince, then she would be the king's daughter-in-law, and that would give her more than enough status to demand an immediate, private meeting with the king. Then she could bring up the Order of Bethlehem and ask the king himself about this strange mystery, and maybe the king would decide whether he wanted to let his adopted son know about this secret too.

"He just asked me about my background and what my country is like. Most people seem surprised to know that I am not a local," she lied smoothly, confident that the prince would not be able to sense her false words. The prince stared at her for a while, and as the moments passed by without him saying a word, she started to doubt her earlier confidence. Did he actually know what they had been talking about, somehow? Maybe he and the viscount set this up, maybe it was some kind of test…

"Well, if you say so," he finally broke the silence. "Though in all honesty, the Piko I remember from Easton College was never particularly bothered with gossip and people's personal histories. He and his father had one thing in common, you see – this unquenchable thirst for knowledge, the desire to find out more about history and know about mankind's every single nefarious deed. The Marquis of Archex is fascinated by history and mythology, and if I'm not wrong most of his overseas trips focus on archaeology and uncovering the truth. Not that I care much for that," he laughed carelessly. "The past does not matter, does it? Only the present and the future. We have to keep moving on…since the past itself brings nothing but pain," his voice trembled towards the end. She guessed that he was probably recalling his previous fiancée, and the raw pain in his words made her wonder if he would ever marry again, even after years and years of solitude. How lonely was the prince in all his royalty?

"The viscount said that in the past, you always spoke of your fiancée, so much that it annoyed him," her words were blunt. The prince seemed stunned by what she was saying. "You still love her, don't you? This mysterious girl…" Miku realised abruptly that the prince never told her what happened to his previous fiancée, but she must be dead. This was probably where his Romeo nickname came from – Romeo and Juliet, the lovers who killed themselves for their romance. But who was Juliet, and if he was Romeo…didn't that mean he once tried to kill himself, too? Yet here he stood.

"Well, I love her," he said simply. "Not that there is anyone left to love…" his voice trailed off, and for a moment the two of them stood in uncomfortable silence. Then the prince spoke again. "I do not wish to talk about myself or my past, so enough about me. How do you find Piko as a potential husband?" the straightforward way he said these words startled her. "After all, that is your main purpose in attending the ball, isn't it? I am curious to know how you view all these single noblemen."

"He is…he would be acceptable," she was telling the truth, that Piko would probably make a decent husband for a noble lady, but she kept the fact that she found him strange to herself. It was probably just a matter of personal preference. "He is the son of a marquis after all, which my mother and aunt both would definitely approve of. But I personally do not wish to marry him. After speaking to him, I do not find we have very much in common. Also, I'd like to know," she glanced up at the prince, "if you felt that I ought to be careful when speaking to the viscount, why did you point him out to me to begin with, last night at the ball?" the viscount had been among the informal list of single noblemen the prince had offered to introduce to her. The prince looked rather amused at her question.

"To find a husband to begin with, one would need to find a single young gentleman. I was merely offering you the chance to meet every single noble attending my ball. I know the list – most of them had been former schoolmates of mine when we were attending Easton, while some of the others are just aristocrats who deal with my father," he pulled her to one side, away from the double doors which led to the ballroom as a gaggle of giggling girls passed by them, laughing and winking at the prince flirtatiously. He did not return the gesture. "If the viscount does not appeal to you, then tell me what you are searching for, and I'll be sure to narrow the list down for you accordingly."

"I'm looking for someone of high noble standing in society…someone who can be both serious and mischievous when the time calls for it, someone who does not behave like they should," she stared hard at him, a not very subtle hint. "Someone with blue eyes and blond hair," she added, just for good measure. Surely he could not miss such an obvious reference. The prince blinked, clearly surprised by her relative forwardness, but slowly a smile crossed his lips. He looked outright wicked.

"I'll see what I can do," he said lightly. "Now, we have been talking out here for a long time. My presence at the ball will be sorely missed. Would you care to join me for our first dance of the night?" he held out a hand for her to take, and she willingly placed her hand in his, slightly more hopeful that he was considering marrying her now. After all, he did not immediately say that he was not interested in finding another bride. It probably meant she stood a chance, or at least she wished she did. It had been a gamble, being so forward – this whole time, after all, she had been acting coy. But she knew that if he really started introducing her to other noblemen, then it would be unlikely that he developed any romantic interest in her – and of course, that wasn't something she could accept.

He drew her into the ballroom, and she went with him, ignoring the many faces which turned towards her at their arrival. She could feel it in her bones – tonight, her plans would certainly come to fruition, and she would be able to escape from the manor. After tonight, she would finally be free.


	9. Chapter 9

"So, where would you find this blond haired, blue eyed gentleman with the rakish sense of humour you so seek?" the prince asked her, stopping a waiter and getting two glasses of wine.

She took the glass he offered her, though she did not drink – she was not a drinker, and she wouldn't drink unless the prince called her refusal an act of disrespect. "I don't suppose the ball would have such a gentleman?" she answered, wondering how he would respond. Her lips were curled into a small smile – it was an amusing game they were playing, and she looked forward to all his answers.

"Well, whoever could win the heart of someone so flighty would certainly be a woman to be respected," he grinned, holding his glass of wine out to her. She toasted him as well, and watched as he raised the glass to his lips, finishing the sparkling white wine in one quick gulp. "I also always felt that the wine during such festivities is given out in a remarkably sparing manner," he commented. "I asked the servants and the kitchens to pour out more wine per glass, but it seems the increase is barely even significant. How do they expect to please me with such a meagre volume?" he sighed.

"You must drink very often, then," she noticed, and he smiled, ducking his head slightly in a mocking show of embarrassment. She offered him her glass of wine, which he took gladly, not making any comment about her refusal to drink, much to her surprise. "I don't really drink, myself. Wine does not favour my sensibilities," she had never tried to see how much she could drink before. If she was anything like her father, she would be excellent at holding her drink, but she didn't want to try it out to see if this was true – and she most certainly didn't want to risk getting drunk at the prince's party.

Thinking of drinking and embarrassment made her think of Lucinda and the rest of her step-family. She wondered how deep into their slumber they were now – she herself was not too sure about the potency of the herbal concoction, and she figured that it would be safest to be back before twelve. Anything after midnight was too risky – the stepsisters and her stepmother might wake up any time then, and if they discovered that she wasn't at home when she awoke, she would be in huge trouble.

"A guilty pleasure, and sometimes not even a pleasure at all," he looked down for a while, almost sombre, then suddenly he looked back up at her and shot her a stunning smile. "There is little to entertain ourselves with at this ball, so why don't we sneak away again? This time I'll show you my most absolute favourite place here. We didn't get to see it on the first night, but tonight is the last night of the ball so I think it would be a pity if you didn't get to see it. What do you say?"

Of course she agreed. She could see the navy haired Lord Shion looking at her from afar, though he kept his distance since she was with the prince. She supposed that Lord Shion didn't have a ranking high enough to just approach the prince as and when he wanted – he was the son of a viscount, wasn't he? She thought back to what she was taught about nobility and peerage – the viscount was the second lowest rank of the peerage, while the prince was quite obviously one of the highest. Frankly, she thought that the peerage system was rather stupid – it didn't protect nobles if they were ever usurped from their position, like she was – but Ossyria held the peerage system in the highest regard.

"Come with me," the prince placed the two empty glasses on the tray of another passing waiter. She did as he bade her, following the prince out of the ballroom and into the corridors of the palace once again. She wondered if he was going to show her the other floors they missed the previous time, but this time the prince brought her throughout the ground floor instead, going deeper and deeper into the heart of the palace. She could hear the constant swish of her long skirts against the carpeted floors, and reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, feeling vaguely uncomfortably about walking through the palace in such an aimless manner – though she couldn't explain why she felt so strange, exactly. The corridors were devoid of people, even the servants, and the pale white marble pillars and the rich, bloody red velvet carpet made her think of how…spectral the palace was.

"It must be unnerving, walking alone through the palace at night," she remarked as they walked past an open window, the moonlight shining onto them and illuminating the white wall behind them. The shadows which stretched out from their body were dark and almost ominous. The prince looked at her, a small smile on his face at her observation, and she wondered what he was thinking. She had been wondering about his thoughts ever since she so boldly told him that she wanted to marry him – was there really a chance that this might work out in her favour? As time passed, it seemed to be more and more plausible. Maybe he would propose in this special place of his…or so she hoped.

"It's normally not so bad," he answered, sounding thoughtful. "Usually the servants keep all the lights lit up along the passageways so they can see at night, even past midnight. The candle lights are only extinguished when the last servant goes to bed, which happens somewhere in the dark hours between two and six. They sleep in shifts," he explained at the puzzled look on her face. "Those four hours are the only times the palace is completely devoid of activity. The palace is so big – a team of servants working the whole day, from eight in the morning to ten at night, wouldn't be able to finish all the chores and duties that come with this huge place. So they take shifts and sleep when they're not working. My father is a considerably lenient master, so the servants are happy to work here."

"That doesn't change the fact that the corridors and hallways are unnerving," she answered. "I suppose that if the candles were lit along the passage, it wouldn't be quite as ghostly, but the way the palace is constructed and the finery here…it's not the most relaxing home to grow up in," she observed. She compared the regal finery of the palace with the homely summer cottage her father liked to bring her to when she was a child. Their actual manor was in the state of Cante, which was two days journey away from the capital of Ossyria, Temane, where the palace was and where most of the nobility constructed their townhouses. She missed the Cante home and the summer cottage. She hated the Temane manor they lived in now – it was stuffy and contained bad memories.

"It's better than my previous house, that's for sure," the prince shrugged. She perked up in interest at the mention of his past life, but he said nothing else about the matter and she figured that it would be unwise to probe further, so she held her tongue, curious about where his previous house was. If she knew which state he used to live in, then she would know which noble family he came from prior to being adopted – he had to be noble, to be in Easton like the Viscount of Lexane.

They came to the end of the passageway they were walking through. The passageway opened up into the outside grounds, and he ducked through the archway, bidding her follow him. She gathered up her long skirts, stepping carefully outside onto the grass and held out her free hand for him to take, as expected of a nobleman escorting a noble lady. A small grin crossed his face, and he took hold of her hand, leading her across the lawn. They were in the back yards of the palace it seemed, and she looked around, curious – the moonlight provided the faintest illumination, and she could make out vague shapes of buildings, trees and shrubbery. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"You'll know when we get there," he answered, his response short and sweet. He remained mysteriously tight-lipped even when she probed lightly for more information, so she fell silent, mind whirling with thoughts and possibilities. Would he show her another rose garden? She remembered the stunning beauty of the flowers in his gardens from the first night. She tried to think about what kinds of things the royal family might have in their back yards, but she honestly had no idea.

They did not have to walk for long. Soon enough, she saw that they were heading in the direction of one of the buildings she had noticed in the moonlight – a long building with a low roof and an open door. As they got closer and closer, she could smell something vaguely familiar – the smell of animal musk and sweat. _Stables?_ That was the first possibility which came to mind, and she glanced at the prince, who was walking ahead of her, his pace quickening as they got nearer and nearer to the building. Maybe he was taking her to see his horses, she reasoned. But she didn't know why this would be considered a special place to him. Weren't the stables just a place to keep horses?

"I'd like you to meet my dear friend," the prince spoke up suddenly, as though he had read her thoughts. She jumped, startled by the unexpected remark. "She is very special to me, and one of the sole creatures in the world I feel that I am able to trust fully. She is also very protective of me," he turned back to shoot her a look, though she couldn't tell what the expression on his face was due to the mask hiding his gaze and thoughts. "So it might be best not to make any sudden moves while in my vicinity. It will be a hard time calming her down if she's agitated in the presence of a stranger."

"Your friend appears to be most hostile. I'm not sure if I want to meet her," Miku commented, semi-jokingly yet to some extent serious as well. "I have never been very good around animals," she cautioned the prince, who perhaps might have thought of her as an animal lover for some reason – after all, why else would he bring her down to see his pet horse, right? "I'm fine with dogs and cats, but anything bigger than those are…well, they intimidate me," she admitted. When she was little, she had seen someone get trampled over by a runaway horse, and ever since then she had never liked the animals very much. She knew they would not hurt a person if taken care of properly and not set completely loose like that berserk horse was, but she could not help but always be a little frightened whenever a horse drew close. She could ride in a carriage, but probably not on a horse.

"Don't fret, she's perfectly good-natured. Rather mild actually, and good with children. She's just exceptionally protective when it comes to me, that's all. She's both mother and friend," he laughed, "though it's strange calling a horse my mother. Come on," he stepped through the wide open doors of the stable, tugging on her hand lightly as she remained outside, hesitant. "She won't bite if you don't bite her first," he added, in a humorous attempt to comfort her. She managed a smile.

Doing as he wished, she stepped past the doors, feeling the musky scent of animals get stronger as she entered the stables. The stables were dark too, just like the yard outside, and she could just barely make out the outlines of individual stalls and big, moving shapes, which should be the horses. A few of them whinnied at her as the prince led her past them, and she flinched away from those who came too close to her, their noses sticking out of the stalls. The prince was headed right to the very back of the stables, and she tore her eyes away from her surroundings, focusing on what was ahead of her. She could see a white horse in the very last stall – at least, she assumed it was white, because in the darkness of the stable the shape was only a little brighter than every other shadow.

The prince ignored all the other horses as they walked, and she observed him instead of the horses which unnerved her so. Her heart was thudding in her chest and she knew her palms were starting to sweat a little – she really didn't like horses, whenever she thought of one she would think of the bruised and battered body, blood dripping from its mouth, which she saw in the aftermath of a horse's rampage. She was too young then to handle such a gruesome sight, and she thought even now, at this age, she wouldn't have been able to accept the scene. She shuddered, pulling her hand away to wipe it against her dress. This broke the prince's focus and direction, and he glanced back at her, clearly curious about why she let go. She waved him on, so he turned and proceeded onwards.

"There, her name is Frost. She's the first horse I ever owned in the palace, back when the king gifted me with a horse to welcome me into the royal family. Frost and I have been through plenty together and she'll always be a part of me because of that," the prince spoke as he finally reached the stall, the white horse clearly eager and awaiting his arrival. Miku watched as the prince reached out towards the mare's long forehead, stroking down between its eyes. The horse neighed, swishing its tail – the light here was a little better since the moonlight shone through a small crack in the ceiling, sending a silvery ray of light down towards them. She could make out small details about Frost that she had not been able to notice for the other horses, like her shape and poise and her bright eyes.

The horse, Frost, had piercing light blue eyes which were further accented by her pure white coat – she could tell that it was pure white now, being so close to the animal. Those eyes seemed strangely wise, even knowing, though Miku had no idea what the horse was thinking about since she wasn't a horse herself. The horse looked at her and blew out through its nose, its long feathery eyelashes lowering over its blue eyes – in disdain? Could animals even feel emotions? Evidently deciding that Miku was not a threat, Frost turned its attention back towards the prince, who continued petting it softly.

"Would you like to ride on her?" the prince suddenly asked, much to her – mostly unpleasant – surprise. "I promise she will be gentle," he added, as though sensing her readiness to bolt. She gulped audibly and looked at the horse. Frost stared back at her with something that seemed almost like distaste in her equine expression, and Miku decided there and then that she was not going anywhere near the horse. Any creature that could look at her and make her feel… _inferior_ was not one she wanted to have any association with. She shook her head, backing slowly away from Frost.

The mare snorted, laying its ears flat back against its skull. Miku had absolutely no idea why the horse seemed to be so hostile towards her – well, perhaps hostile was too strong a word to use, but she was sure that the mare wasn't too fond of her either. She hadn't even done anything to the foul beast after all, and she hadn't done anything which would hurt the horse's beloved master either, so why did it keep looking at her like she was an annoying pest which it wanted out of the stable as soon as possible? The prince picked up on the tension between her and the horse and, after a few parting words and several more strokes, he turned and left the stall, bringing her along with him.

Miku did not look back at the horse when she left, and she was certain that Frost didn't miss her either. As soon as she was back outside in the yard, she took in a breath of fresh air, glad that the overwhelming stink of animal sweat was no longer clogging up her nostrils. The prince was looking at her, though she couldn't see his expression since he was facing away from the moonlight – his entire figure was shrouded in shadow. "You really dislike horses, don't you?" he observed. She sighed.

"I witnessed something traumatic involving a runaway horse and a dead man when I was a child. I can't help but think of that every time I see a horse," she confessed, glancing back over her shoulder at the stables as she spoke. The scent of hay and animal musk wafted out of the stables and clung to her skin, making her long to go home and scrub the smell away. "I don't really _hate_ horses, I just…I just don't get along too well with them, I suppose. They always look like they're up to no good, at least to me. And I would never want to ride upon one, it'd probably just fling me right off its back."

"You exaggerate," the prince countered, albeit playfully. He didn't seem reproachful or reprimanding despite her concerns, which surprised her given that he was, unlike her, such a horse lover. "Horses are not the ill-tempered creatures you seem to believe they are, and Frost is truly gentle as a lamb. She just has an unfortunate tendency of looking down on anyone who's afraid of her. Animals can be remarkably astute, you know. They can scent the fear that you try so hard to hide," she saw his hand reach out to her then, and she froze as she felt his knuckles brush lightly against her cheek. "I really hope you can learn to get along well with my horse," he murmured, voice becoming lower and more sensuous than his earlier playful tone. "If you're living with me, you'll need to get used to Frost for sure."

"Living with you?" she echoed. "I still haven't agreed to come to the palace and take on the role of your personal entertainer, you know – though you are relentless in your attempts to sway me," she laughed softly, stepping away from his lingering hand. He let his hand drop back down to his side and said not another word, but she could practically feel his smirk directed straight at her. He was a handsome and charming man, even in the dead of night when she could not see his face and eyes. She wondered if he was _flirting_ with her – that process through which a person wooed another of their fancy. She was, of course, unfamiliar with the art of flirtation, but she thought she could recognise the very most basic signs of it, and this seemed to her like a conversation which was beyond that of normal acquaintances. She and the Viscount of Lexane certainly wouldn't speak like that.

"We'll see about that," he hummed, more to himself than to her. She frowned, about to ask him what he meant, but he turned away and started walking back to the palace. She hurried to keep up, not wanting to be left alone next to the stables, and she spent most of the journey struggling to keep her balance and not trip over her long skirts – unlike the walk to the stables, the prince did not make any allowances for her clothing this time and walked with a pace that was just slightly too quick for her. His abrupt change in behaviour confused her, and she was certain that he was up to something.

This chase of sorts continued all the way from the back yard to the ballroom, where she finally managed to catch up with the prince, who awaited her at the giant double doors. The servants who stood on either side of the closed doors bowed towards the prince – "Your Highness," they murmured, casting her sideways looks of curiosity as they spoke. She took in a deep breath and brushed her skirts down, patting her hair to ensure her intricate bun was still together and that not a single strand of hair was out of place. He nodded in acknowledgement of their greeting, not even glancing at her as she walked up next to him, and the servants silently opened the double doors.

The ballroom beyond was still buzzing with talk, dance and music. The orchestra was playing one of Mozart's pieces now, one she was particularly fond of for her mother used to play it on the piano herself, and as she walked into the ballroom with the sounds of violins and strings flowing through the air, she felt herself swaying and moving to the rhythm of the melody. The prince had quickly ducked into the crowd upon the opening of the doors, so she was left alone to wander around the fringes of the ballroom, not quite willing to talk to anyone else. The more people she talked to in this room, the closer she came to exposing her true identity, and she didn't want that to happen now.

"Lady Kamui! I've been looking for you all night," a cheerfully familiar voice greeted her from some distance away, and she instinctively turned in the direction of the voice though she already knew who it belonged to – Lord Shion was weaving his way through the crowd towards her, a giant beam on his face. His mask was slipping from his face, but he didn't seem to care – there was a glass of half-drunk wine in his hand, and she suspected that perhaps he was starting to get a little tipsy.

"Lord Shion," she curtseyed and greeted him respectfully once he reached her side, though inwardly she let out a small groan – she did wish she didn't have to speak to him tonight, given what she knew about his situation. But he had already spotted her before he hailed her, so there was no point in her escaping into the crowd. If she just fled from him instead of speaking with him, it would no doubt make her seem rather suspicious. Besides, he wasn't a bad man – just a little inconvenient to have around, but she was certain he was gentlemanly. It was a pity that their circumstances meant that she would never like him, and she wished him good luck in finding another potential fiancée.

"Would you like a dance, Lady Kamui?" he asked now that he was next to her, and she caught him slurring on her name just a tiny bit. Yes, he was definitely starting to get tipsy. She knew tipsy people were extremely unpredictable – Lucinda was a prime example of this – so she just agreed, since she didn't want to risk Lord Shion kicking up a fuss in his current state. Clearly delighted, he set his half-finished glass of wine down on the tray of a passing waiter and took her hand, leading her to the dance floor. She comforted herself with the fact that the Mozart song was still playing, and it was one of her absolute favourites. Getting into position, she began to dance with the young lord.

It wasn't really so bad, actually. Lord Shion was a good dancer, though it seemed like he had to concentrate quite a bit to avoid stumbling over his own feet – she was impressed that someone who had drunk enough to get tipsy was able to dance at all like this – and as long as she didn't open her eyes, she could pretend that the man she was dancing with wasn't someone who had called off his engagement to her stepsister just because of her. Though she felt no pity for Anastasia, she did feel sorry for the poor man, who didn't know that his annulation of that deal was all done for nought.

The two of them danced for at least another three songs, and she was beginning to get tired. Throughout all three pieces, they said nothing to each other, though Lord Shion seemed to grow more and more sober with each song – something which made her uncomfortable, because if he was sober then he was capable of serious discussion. Miku did not want to engage in any sort of serious discussion with this man at the moment, because she had zero doubts that the first thing he would bring up was the possibility of the two of them getting married. How was she supposed to let him down? She never had a lover of any sort before, so she had no idea how to reject an advance.

They twirled and moved throughout the ballroom floor, their movements deft and sure, her hand constantly on his shoulder and his hand constantly around her waist. She was starting to breathe a little harder than usual, and she knew that after this last song was over she would have to take a break before she could continue dancing. Lord Shion seemed to notice her growing tiredness. "Shall we take a break, Lady Kamui?" he asked, frowning slightly in concern. He had readjusted his mask halfway through the second dance, but she had still seen enough to guess what he looked like underneath the mask – an honest and open man with a kind smile and gentle eyes. He was truly an attractive noble, but he wasn't the one for her. Under any other circumstances, she would have given any proposal of his some serious thought, but now…the prince was the only man she wanted.

He led her to the side of the floor, against one of the ornate white pillars of the ballroom. She resisted the urge to slump back against the cool marble, only now realising exactly how tired she was – whenever she danced, she didn't feel the true extent of her exhaustion until she completely stopped moving and felt the ache in her arms and legs. If she was at home, she would have just collapsed to the ground in her tiredness, but in such a social situation she knew she couldn't do the same thing. "That was tiring, but very fun," she offered, noticing the awkward silence between the two of them and how the young lord kept looking shiftily at her, not daring to stare for too long.

"Indeed. I would like to dance with you more often, if that's possible," the young lord replied, a small smile on his face. He was much taller than her even with her glass heels on, so she had to tilt her head up to face him whenever he spoke. "I know we've just met, Lady Kamui," he said earnestly now, and she tensed – she knew it, this had to be the proposal she had been reluctantly anticipating all night. "But I really do feel like we connect on some level deeper than mere human superficiality. I enjoy talking to you and listening to you speak greatly, and if you…feel the same way, that would be wonderful to me and my mother both," he suddenly spoke with a fiery passion, grasping both of her hands in his larger ones. She gulped, but didn't dare to pull her hands away. "She is most fond of you, you know. She was the one who encouraged me to ask you about this tonight, this very night!"

"Ask me what, exactly?" she answered carefully, tilting her head back a little distance away from him – his fervour was just slightly too much for her, and she didn't want to continue feeling so overwhelmed. The lord looked faintly puzzled for a moment, as though he didn't understand what she was talking about, but a look of sudden realisation crossed his face and he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, red velvet box. She swallowed again, getting nervous now – did he actually have a ring ready?

"Would you like to become my fiancée?" he asked, opening the velvet box slowly and presenting the contents to her. She stared – there was an absolutely stunning crystal pendant sparkling in the middle of the velvet box, winking playfully at her. She had known that there would be something gorgeous in the box, but she hadn't expected this – it looked terribly expensive and precious, and she had no idea what to say. "This is my mother's pendant, which she received from my father when they first got married. She told me to present it to any girl I wish to make my wife," the lord was saying in that same earnest manner. "It would mean the world to me if you accept this gift."

"I…I don't know what to say," she told him truthfully. Of course, she ought to reject him right now, seeing how he wasn't the one to help her fulfil her plan, but at the sight of his sincerity she found she couldn't bring herself to crush him so cruelly. Everyone around them was looking at them now, and she felt incredibly self-conscious as the murmurs and whispers started, rumours which would no doubt make their way to Lucinda and Anastasia by tomorrow morning. "I really appreciate your gift and your proposal, Lord Shion, but…" she hesitated. How was she supposed to say it, exactly? That she was holding out for a proposal from the prince? That would make her seem so materialistic and callous, and no doubt leave the surrounding audience with a very poor impression of her.

"But I'm afraid she can't accept because she's already promised to another," she heard a smooth voice speak over her stutters and hesitation, and the whole crowd turned to face the new speaker, including her and Lord Shion. The prince himself was moving through the crowd towards the two of them, the blue eyes visible through his mask perfectly serious – for once, there wasn't any sign of humour on his face. Her spirits soared as she saw him approach. She knew that there was a solid chance of her escaping from her manor-prison now, since the prince himself had interrupted Lord Shion's proposal to her – and he wouldn't have done something like that for no reason, right?

"Betrothed to another?" Lord Shion echoed, looking confused. The prince reached the two of them, and though he was a little shorter than Lord Shion, the navy haired nobleman still recoiled from the piercing look in the prince's eyes. Lord Shion looked from the prince to her, then back again, sadness and confusion still evident on his face. "I thought you were looking for someone to marry at the ball, Lady Kamui?" he asked her. A puzzled look flitted across the prince's face at the sound of that name, but Miku ignored him for the time being, focusing on Lord Shion and his look of utter betrayal.

"I am, but…but…" her voice trailed away, and she swallowed nervously, glancing at the prince in a silent, desperate plea for help. The prince just smiled, the puzzled look already gone, and waved at her to continue. She frowned at him and decided she would just make up a story then, and hopefully the prince would play along with her. "I received a proposal from another nobleman just earlier tonight at the ball, you see," she said carefully, "and I already said yes, so I'm afraid I can't accept your offer, Lord Shion…" she ducked her head, looking away so she didn't have to see his face.

"And who is this nobleman?" Lord Shion asked, curiosity and that ever-present sadness ringing in his voice. Miku struggled for an answer – suddenly, she couldn't remember the name of any single nobleman the prince had introduced to her before other than the Viscount of Lexane, and she doubted that Utatane Piko would be happy about her involving him in her business.

"Me. It's me," the prince stepped up between her and Lord Shion, addressing the taller man directly. The whole crowd around them hushed, mostly in excitement though Lord Shion seemed to grow even more sullen about this revelation. The prince smiled and reached out to her hand, bringing it towards him and planting a small kiss on her skin. "She interests me greatly, so I decided that I would propose to her. She is stunning and curious, and very entertaining. I'm sorry about that, Lord Shion," the prince really did sound like he was sorry here, but she doubted that was the case. "You will find another woman to be your fiancée, I'm sure. Or there is always Hatsune Anastasia," he added.

"Thank you for your kind wishes, Your Highness," Lord Shion muttered before he turned away, ducking into the crowd and hiding himself amongst the giant group of people. He was gone before she could even blink. Now, she was left alone with the prince, who had just publicly announced that they were engaged – everyone around them was buzzing with this piece of new information, and she was starting to feel uncomfortable about all the stares and the attention she was receiving. The prince turned towards her then, leaning close to her to whisper in her ear – though no doubt some of the crowd around them would think he was kissing her. She didn't really like the idea of that.

"I thought about it, and I decided that this would be the best way to save you from Lord Shion's advances. After all, you told me what you're looking for in a potential husband, and he doesn't really have the traits you mentioned, isn't it?" he asked, sounding cheeky – almost sly. She nodded, still feeling slightly guilty about the dejected look on Lord Shion's face. "But before you say that all this is just a farce, I'll let you know that I really did spend some time thinking over whether or not I wanted to propose to you – and here are the results of my pondering," the prince drew out another velvet box, similar to Lord Shion's box, though the prince's velvet box was a deep, rich shade of navy blue.

She stared at the box, as did everyone else – no doubt the nobles gathered here wanted to see what the prince would give to his newly declared fiancée. Slowly, the prince opened the box, and she gasped at the sight within – a silvery metal band with a single blood red ruby in the middle, two diamonds and a vivid sapphire gem clustered around the ruby. She had absolutely no doubt that this cost a pretty penny. "What…where did you get this?" she all but exclaimed in her utter surprise. The prince smiled, as though he had been waiting for someone to ask him this question all night.

"When I left you alone in the ballroom. I knew that Lord Shion would distract you for some time so I used the chance to go back to my room and retrieve this box," he grinned. "So, I'd just like to ask you this question, Cinderella – will you become my fiancée?" as he spoke, he knelt down on one knee, and she didn't know whether to laugh or swoon at his theatrics. The whole crowd was abuzz with murmurs and whispers, and she tried to pretend they weren't there, instead focusing on the prince's smile – it was a sweet, genuine smile for once, not a smirk or a grin – and the ring he was holding in his hand. She didn't know why he suddenly decided to go through all this, but she was glad he did.

Before she could answer though, she heard the town clock tower begin to toll – the bell only rang twice a day, twelve times during twelve noon and twelve times during midnight. She knew she had to leave immediately before her stepfamily woke up, and as the first toll faded into the second, she stepped away from the prince and picked up her skirts, running away from the ball. Shouts and yelling followed her but she didn't turn or stop, focusing on running away as fast as she could.

As she ran, one of her shoes slipped off but she didn't bother to stop and pick it up. Instead, she quickly reached up and took off the other shoe, holding it tightly in her hand as she continued to run barefoot – if she ran from here back to the manor she would be back in maybe ten minutes or less. She would rip the dress to allow greater mobility if she could, but she wasn't that strong – and she knew she would regret doing such a thing to her mother's memory after this whole escape was over. The other shoe was left alone on the carpeted staircase that led down from the palace's front doors to the main gardens. She hoped the prince would be like the one in Cinderella and use the shoe to find her – she hoped he would understand that her hasty departure was not a rejection of his proposal.

Kagamine Len ran out to the front doors just in time to see the girl's long skirts flutter down the main street outside, the girl herself disappearing from his view. He knew he wouldn't be able to chase her now, so he exhaled in frustration, looking around at the servants who had accompanied him on his chase. As he turned, something sparkled at him from below, and he glanced downwards – slowly, he crouched down to pick up the item. The glass shoe winked back at him, playful and merry just like its owner. A slow smile crossed his face as he made the connection to her fairy tale name…

"All right, Cinderella," he breathed out as his servants finally reached him, looking around and yelling at each other to discover where the girl had gone. "I'll play your game. And when I find you, you can be sure that I'll be bringing you back with me, since you forced me to run around after you like this."


	10. Chapter 10

When Miku got home, her hair in disarray and clutching her glass slipper in one hand, the hem of her dress flecked with dust and dirt, she found the house as empty and silent as she left it.

She exhaled in relief, glad that she had managed to sneak home before the herbal brew wore off. Glancing at the remaining glass shoe she had in her hand, she decided that she ought to hurry up and get to her attic room before the stepsisters woke up. She still had to change out of her dress and keep the glass shoe away. Softly, she closed the mansion doors behind her, careful not to make any loud noises which might rouse her stepfamily. Making her way to the stairs, she started going up to the next floor, holding her breath because this floor was where her stepfamily were all sleeping.

She hurried up the stairs all the way to the third floor, where she further climbed up the ladder that led to her attic room. Once inside, she secured the trapdoor and started to frantically change out of her clothes, impatiently unhooking every single clasp of her dress and shimmying out of the heavy mass of silk and lace. Now that it was off her shoulders, she felt so free – she hadn't realised just how stifling the dress was. It was still beautiful though, even with the dirt that now stained the hem. She would wash it away once she had time, for now her main objective was just to hide the dress.

Quickly, she flung open her small cupboard and stuffed the dress back where it belonged, before reaching up on her tiptoes and placing the single glass shoe back on the top of it. Retrieving her servant outfit from where she placed it on the bed earlier, she tugged it on, always fearing that the stepsisters would wake up. Fingers flicking down from button to button, she smoothed down the dress as best as she could then reached up to her messy bun, undoing it so she could tidy up her hair. Just as she let her hair down, she heard an all-too familiar scream pierce through the silence.

She groaned – Lucinda was awake. Moving back to the trapdoor and lifting it, she made her way back down to the third floor, careful not to slip down the ladder. Then she gathered her hair and tried to tie it up neatly while rushing down to the first floor to see what Lucinda wanted. She managed to twist her hair into an acceptably neat bun before she knocked on the door, taking in deep breaths to try and regulate her panting. There was a shrill "come in", and in she went.

Lucinda was sitting up in bed, clutching her bedsheets tightly. She looked livid, and given that the giant pimples on her face had yet to go down, it made for a strangely intimidating sight. Miku had never known that a pimple could pulse so terrifyingly before. "I can't believe you let me go to sleep!" she screeched the moment Miku entered the room. "I wanted to go to the ball! I would have covered these foul things up with powder and went to the ball so I can speak to the man who wants to marry me! But you just…you allowed me to sleep all night, I can't believe you!" her voice was getting louder, and Miku resisted the urge to cringe. "You're just jealous of my success and beauty!"

"You seemed tired, so I thought it would be best if you rested," she replied smoothly, trying to calm down the bratty redhead. She was sure all the commotion must have woken up the other two, but at least she was in the mansion and back in her drab servant garb – if they woke up when she was still out at the ball, she was bound to get into severe trouble. "I didn't dare to wake you up…after all, before you went to sleep you said you were going to stay at the mansion and make Anastasia regret her actions? Since you said all that I naturally assumed that you wanted to stay in bed –"

"Oh Lord, I can't believe you thought that. I can't believe that anyone would be so _stupid_!" Lucinda cut in impatiently, and this time Miku resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Lucinda was the idiot here. Miku had never before seen someone who was so full of herself. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, before she could retort Lucinda's door was flung open. Both she and Lucinda looked towards the newcomer and saw Anastasia standing there, a decidedly black look on her face.

"Can't you shut up for once?" she addressed her younger sister, who simply folded her arms across her chest and looking away, sniffing in disdain. "And you, what did you put in my drink? Why did I sleep for so long?" she snapped, approaching Miku as her expression shifted from one of distaste to suspicion. Miku just stared blankly back at her stepsister, pretending that she had no idea what Anastasia was talking about. She was a good liar and actress – there was no way Anastasia would be able to get anything out of her. Of course she wouldn't admit that the infusion was a sedative.

"I did nothing. What could I have done? It's a nourishing herbal brew, that's all. I brewed some for you, Lucinda and Stepmother. It has a calming effect. You probably went to sleep because you were tired, and the drink aided you with that. That's all," she concluded with these two words, injecting some force behind them. Anastasia continued staring suspiciously at her, but when she next opened her mouth, she didn't talk about the herbal drink – instead, her words made Miku's blood run cold.

"Why are you so clean?" she asked, voice laden with accusation. Lucinda looked up too as Anastasia spoke, gaze roaming over Miku curiously. "You were covered in filth just this morning, like how I remember you usually are. You are a _filthy_ thing, indeed," she said cruelly, but Miku didn't respond to the disparaging remark, her mind instead racing to come up with a reason why she wasn't sooty and ashy like she normally was. She had changed out of her dress and tidied up her hair and made it home before her stepfamily woke up, but she had forgotten that she had taken a bath right before she left the manor and she was clean, much cleaner than anyone in this house was accustomed to.

Before she could stutter out an excuse, Lucinda rose from her bed, walking over so that she was standing right behind Miku. "You smell like my favourite lavender bath fragrance," the redhead gasped, her fingers reaching out to grip Miku's wrist tightly. Miku attempted to break free of her hold, but Lucinda was relentless. "You _used_ my bath – you sat in my clean bathtub with your filthy clothes and skin and used _my_ water and perfumes! How dare you!" she screeched. "You were making use of our sleep to do whatever you wanted! How _insolent_!" Miku wasn't sure what she was more shocked by, Lucinda's sudden ability to draw logical conclusions or her usage of a big word – not that insolent was a particularly difficult word, but it was impressive coming from Lucinda.

"How dare you take advantage of us!" Anastasia seethed, grabbing her arm from behind as well. She started dragging Miku out of the room, and she tried to resist the firm pull as much as she could – she knew what was going to happen next, and she wasn't going to like it. "You deserve to be put in the cellar for three days without food," Anastasia looked over her shoulder at her, a sneer forming on her delicate features. Lucinda was pushing her from behind as well, making it hard for Miku to remain in place. "Don't blame us doing this. You're the one who crossed the line," she hissed.

"What, so now I can't even take a bath?" she demanded, temper flaring – she was already going to end up in the cellar, so nothing she did now could possibly make her punishment worse. "It's just a _bath_ – I didn't even use that much soap, Lucinda would never have noticed. You think to deprive me of even something as simple as a bath? Don't forget who's the actual heiress to Cante – when your mother dies, you're not going to get _anything_ ," she simply couldn't resist provoking her stepsister. Anastasia froze when she heard that, her fingers digging so hard into her skin that it actually stung a little. Miku couldn't help but smirk – what she said was true, no matter what the sisters hoped for.

"I'll throw you in the cellar for a _week_ , you bitch," Anastasia said softly, voice carefully controlled so that her rage wouldn't spill over. "Don't ever let me see your face around me again. You disgust me," with renewed vigour, the stepsisters tugged her down the stairs all the way to the kitchen, ignoring her when she stumbled or protested and tried to get away, to where the entrance to the cellar was. She went with them unwillingly, knowing she couldn't possibly overcome the both of them when they were this agitated – she retreated into a safe corner within her mind, thinking about how satisfying it was to see Anastasia get worked up like this. They wouldn't keep her in the cellar all week, she knew – the longest she had ever gone was four days without food. She still hated the cellar, but it was a place she was used to by now…and at least when she was locked inside there, she wouldn't have to listen to Lucinda's whining and Anastasia's imperious commands.

She thought that perhaps she would be able to get away when one of them let go of her, then she could run back up to her attic room and lock herself in. That would buy her some time until she had to come out for food or water, but more importantly she would be able to vex the two sisters. However, much to her chagrin neither one of them ever let go of her, not even for a second – they were being exceptionally careful with her this time. They had become more careful about dragging her into the cellar ever since the previous time, a few months back, when she had bitten and clawed at them until they had angry red welts all over their arms and faces – neither one could leave the house for a week until they recovered from their injuries. Now, Lucinda had both her arms wrested behind her back – she was surprisingly strong for such a brat – while Anastasia was pulling on her hair, which had come loose from its bun again some time during the journey down the stairs. It made her feel like she was cattle, being steered by a ruthless, cruel owner, and she hated that.

Her stepmother was in the kitchen with her hands folded in front of her, just watching and waiting – as though she already knew that Miku would be thrown into the cellar tonight. It really made Miku wonder if the woman already knew from the start that she was sneaking into the ball and was only pretending to be asleep when she entered her room earlier. Perhaps she had not been knocked unconscious like her daughters, and was patiently waiting for Miku to come back to the manor and receive her punishment from the two sisters. She stared at the woman as Anastasia and Lucinda dragged her into the kitchen, but her stepmother kept her head down and avoided Miku's gaze.

Then Anastasia whipped out the key to the cellar and, with one final push, they shoved Miku inside. The cellar was a dark place, musty and claustrophobic – she fell down the stairs but managed to catch herself, feeling her way through the familiar blackness to her usual spot in the left corner of the room. She could feel the barrels and crates surrounding her in their wooden embrace, and she resigned herself to the darkness, not even bothering to look up at the small square of light that shone through the opening in the door. The light was faint anyway since it was the middle of the night – it was hardly any better than the darkness she now found herself in.

"I hope you die in there," Anastasia's voice floated through the air into the cellar, her acidic tone bouncing off Miku – there were few threats she had not heard from the stepsisters, and all of them were empty anyway. They might neglect her and punish her, but they would never let her die because if she died, then there was truly no way for them to gain the fortune of the Hatsune family. The peerage system dictated that only those related by blood could obtain the wealth and titles of any particular noble family, and Anastasia and Lucinda, despite being her stepsisters, had not a drop of Hatsune blood. This law was the only thing that was keeping her alive and in the Hatsune manor.

Shortly after, she heard the stepsisters leave, and her stepmother probably left the kitchen as well, meaning she was truly alone now. She closed her eyes. It wasn't any different from when she had them open. Burying her face between her knees, she huddled up against the sharp corners of the crates around her, ignoring the discomfort of wooden edges poking into her back. There was little she could do when trapped in this dark prison other than to think. So she would think – she would hope for a better future, but also think of a backup plan just in case the prince failed to rescue her.

* * *

Kagamine Len suppressed a yawn. It was definitely too early in the morning to be up and about, but he had wanted to find the mysterious Cinderella as quickly as he could. Her glass shoe was nestled safely in the satchel he slung around his torso. He smirked – how quaint of them, to be playing by the rules of a fairy-tale so closely. He certainly never ever thought he would be chasing a girl who fled a ball, leaving behind just a single glass shoe. What were the odds of such a thing?

"That's the Hatsune manor, Your Highness," Gumo, his personal butler who usually accompanied him when he bothered to leave the palace, pointed out to him. He looked around lazily towards the building his butler was indicating, taking in the place. It looked just like any other noble manor, with its gated garden and imposing mansion – the whole place reeked of order and confinement. He couldn't imagine Cinderella being happy in there. Maybe that was another reason why she wanted to find a man to marry at the ball – so that she could get out of this place. He wouldn't be surprised.

That reminded him, he had to ask her what her real name was. Why did Shion Kaito refer to her as "Lady Kamui" last night? He was sure she wasn't of his adopted father's bloodline. After all, wouldn't the king just say she was a relative if she actually _was_ one, instead of jumping to the conclusion that she was the daughter of a dead friend? There was definitely something going on here, and that made him all the more determined to get to the truth of the matter. He pulled back on the reins, and Frost stopped at once, allowing him to dismount. Gumo did the same with his own horse.

"Do you need me to follow you in, Your Highness?" his butler asked. He was Gumi's twin brother, but he did a lot less work than the head of the servants since Len was quite averse to asking anyone to do things for him – besides bringing him more wine, which was something any servant of the palace could do and as such, Gumo's services often went unneeded. Len actually had no idea what Gumo did in all his free time, but he imagined the man was usually rather bored and might almost be glad to accompany the prince. Perhaps he ought to start ordering Gumo around more often.

"No, no need. I can do this myself," he answered, patting Frost's flank. "Take care of my horse for me. I'll be right back," Gumo nodded and pulled Frost over to stand beside his horse while Len walked up towards the gates, tilting his head up to look at the sharp tips of the ornate black metal. The polished bars gleamed in the sunlight in a deadly, but beautiful sort of way. Reaching out, he pushed the gates and realised they were unlocked, so quickly he slipped into the gardens and wondered if anyone noticed his arrival. The manor was deadly quiet, all the curtains drawn shut.

Carefully, he made his way up the path towards the house, suddenly feeling terribly conspicuous – there was an ominous feeling lingering in the garden, like a house which had seen too many foul deeds. Bad karma always left its mark on a place, and it made him feel uneasy. The birds were singing in the garden and the flowers were fresh and lovely – a sign that the garden was clearly well taken care of, but that still didn't shake away the chill running down his back. He swallowed and pressed on – he was here not for the Hatsune manor, but rather for one of the people living inside.

Upon reaching the large front door, he gripped the brass knocker tightly – it was shaped like a wolf, the crest of the Hatsune family – and knocked loudly three times. The hollow sound reverberated throughout the manor and the garden – if there was anyone inside the house at the moment they were bound to have heard it. He waited patiently for someone to come to the front door, and after a while it finally opened. There stood a girl with long brown hair and brown eyes, a haughty look on her face. He decided then that he didn't like her – anyone who looked like that couldn't possibly be any good. That haughty look fell away the moment she realised who it was standing on the front porch.

"Oh, Prince Romeo!" she exclaimed, immediately sweeping into a low curtsey. He waved it off, bidding her to rise, and she did so, astonishment still evident on her face. "To what do we owe such an honour?" if he wasn't wrong he could see the foxy gleam of opportunity in her eyes. This had to be the previous fiancée of Shion Kaito, Hatsune Anastasia. He knew about what happened at the ball; that Shion Kaito had broken off their engagement for the mysterious teal haired girl, Cinderella. He could actually understand why though. She didn't seem like she was a particularly pleasant girl.

He didn't know why he felt so strongly against her, but there was something almost fox-like about her, something which said that she wasn't to be trusted. He believed in his instincts. "I'm looking for someone who stays here," he replied, stepping into the house – the girl moved aside so he could come in, looking curiously at him the whole time. He walked through the passageway into the front parlour, looking around to see the interior of the imposing manor. Cream wallpaper with monochrome black florals, vases with pretty wildflowers and portraits hung up in the passageway. It was understated, the design here minimalistic, which was very different from what he was used to in the palace. What he got from this was that they were not as wealthy as they used to be – the houses of other noblemen were much more extravagant. This was a family which had fallen on…hard times.

Of course they were still much wealthier than the average common worker, but among the ranks of the aristocracy they were not as well-off as they once might have been. "And may I ask who you are looking for?" the girl was following him now, curious and rather annoying. He was rather tempted to tell her that it was none of her business, but knew that he couldn't possibly lash out at someone for no reason since he was the prince, and as the prince there was a reputation he had to uphold.

"A girl with teal hair," was all he said. She didn't say anything in response, and he glanced at her, wondering if she would come up with another question – she looked like she was deep in thought, a frown forming on her pale face. She said nothing more as he entered the front parlour, where there were two other women sitting on elegant sofas, clearly engaged in discussion. Both women abruptly stopped talking at the sight of him, and he looked at each in turn, trying to guess who they were.

The one sitting nearer to him, with long red hair and…and the worst case of acne he had ever seen, was clearly the younger sister of the girl behind him now. What was her name? He vaguely recalled seeing her at the ball the first two nights and he remembered that she was one of the girls who had introduced herself to him as well, but he honestly had no idea what her name was. Well, whatever it was, it didn't interest him very much. He looked away from the girl, who was staring right back at him with her mouth hanging open, to the older woman seated slightly further away from him.

This had to be the Dowager Duchess Hatsune, the commoner who managed to marry into the Hatsune family. Unlike her daughters, this woman had green eyes which reminded him of Cinderella – it was not exactly the same, this woman's green eyes were wide and round while Cinderella's eyes, if he remembered correctly, were more almond-shaped – but they were the same colour for sure, and he found himself staring right back at the woman for a few seconds. The feeling wasn't the same though, he didn't feel the same flirtatious frustration he did when he looked at Cinderella herself, so he shook himself out of his trance. "I'm looking for someone with teal hair. She stays here, doesn't she?" he asked without fuss. The older woman and the younger sister exchanged a look.

"Good morning, Your Highness," the two ladies rose from their seats, both of them curtseying deeply. "I don't think there's such a person in our household, unfortunately," the younger girl simpered, batting her eyelashes at him. He ignored her, focusing on the older Duchess instead – she seemed vaguely uncomfortable, lowering her gaze when he looked at her, and that made him feel like there was something suspicious going on. He didn't think that Cinderella lied when she told Lord Shion about where she lived – even he, the prince, had heard the rumours, though the girl never told him outright about her origins. There had to be some connection between her and this mansion.

After all, if she was really the supposedly dead daughter of the family… "Is that true, Duchess?" he addressed the older woman, and the younger girl quietened and backed away, gaze flitting between him and her older sister behind him. "Is there really no such person?" he stared unblinkingly at her, while she was obviously getting more and more agitated the longer he looked. The tension was so thick that one could have cut it with a knife – it was stifling and added on to the already gloomy mood of the mansion. The two sisters moved over to stand beside their mother, holding on to her in a show of support, but he simply folded his arms and waited for an answer. Finally, the woman sighed.

"Come with me," she said quietly, turning away from him. The two sisters tugged on their mother's sleeves, silently protesting, but she shook them off and continued walking into what appeared to be the kitchen. He followed curiously, and watched as she went to the very back of the kitchen, where there appeared to be a wooden door, a tiny little grate in the centre of it. The Duchess then reached out to the key hanging on a hinge beside the door and unlocked it, the thick wood groaning as it was slowly shifted away from its frame. "She is inside, the teal haired girl you're looking for – and if you wish, take her away, far away from here," the woman suddenly leant close and whispered to him, making sure that the two girls standing at the entrance to the kitchen could not hear her. "Take her away from the suffering that she must endure in this house. That is all I dare to ask of you!"

He nodded to indicate that he understood her – whether he could accede to her request would be another thing. He had to make sure that this girl she was referring to was the same girl he was looking for. Carefully, he stepped inside the room, which was probably a cellar of some sort – it was dark and musty inside, the air so thick with dust that it felt like he had stepped into a whole other world. The light from the kitchen barely lit the space beyond, revealing a series of worn stone steps and nothing else. Warily, he started going down the steps, wondering what awaited him within the dark depths.

Eventually he stepped out of the small patch of light and had to reach out with his hands, feeling around in the darkness since he could no longer see. He was slow and careful when it came to walking down the stairs, not wanting to miss a step and end up tumbling down – after all, he had no idea how long this staircase was. Maybe around eight steps later, he felt his foot touch solid ground, his fingers brushing against unfamiliar, hard objects – perhaps a box here, a barrel there, containers and objects he was unable to recognise in the overwhelming darkness. Then he sensed movement.

Instantly, he was on his guard, hand darting instinctively towards the small dagger he had hidden in his coat – he had not wanted to strap it to his hips as he normally would because he didn't wish to alarm the Hatsune family. "Hello?" he called into the darkness, wondering if he would get a reply. "Is there anyone there?" suddenly, he felt something round and smooth hit and bounce off him, and he stepped back into what felt like a stack of crates. The crates fell at the impact, crashing down around him, and he hissed in frustration, shielding himself from the wooden boxes. "Who are you?"

"Who are you?" the voice of a girl, naturally sweet but her tone rather sarcastic, blossomed from within the darkness. He stilled – the voice was vaguely familiar. It made him think of burning green eyes and a coy smile, and at once he knew that this voice belonged to the girl he was looking for. "I'm not the one who came barging into someone else's personal space and started pushing her things around, making all this noise. Anastasia must have sent a new servant to pester me again. I already said before, you don't scare me, you annoy me. Leave before I throw another apple at you."

"I'm not a servant," he replied, unsure if he should feel insulted or amused. "I think we met at the ball last night…and the night before…and the night before that. I wonder if you happen to know of a girl named Cinderella?" the mysterious voice did not respond, and he continued on. "You see, she left a glass shoe behind when she fled from my proposal last night. I had to make quite a few enquiries before I was finally directed to this manor, and the Duchess Hatsune told me that she was down here…could it possibly be you? Or are you just going to throw another apple at me?" he was rather entertained by her earlier threat. Maybe he should start using that line against the people who irritated him – his adopted father, his servants, Gumo…the possibilities were endless.

"And why are you looking for this mysterious girl? I would think that if she ran away from a proposal, it's clearly a sign of something," this time, the girl sounded playful, an abrupt change from the sullen annoyance in her voice just moments ago. "You should learn not to be so persistent, whoever you are. Not all ladies like a persistent man, even if they happen to be a nobleman. Girls have their preferences too, you know. Perhaps this girl likes her men dark and quiet – just like this cellar itself."

"But she told me she is looking for someone with a sense of humour, blue eyes and blond hair," he responded smoothly, lips curving into a knowing smirk. He knew it was her – he just had to find her and drag her out of this cellar, though she seemed content to continue bantering with him and amusing herself at his expense. Why was she even locked here in this cellar anyway, and why were the two sisters so keen to ensure she remained here? After all, they were pretending that there was no such person in their household. He really had to do some investigating of his own regarding this family…he thought of Anastasia's shifty eyes and the younger sister's words and his smile dipped down into a frown. Were they locking this girl away because she was the true heir to the Hatsune family fortune and legacy? But that made no sense. If she disappeared, they wouldn't get anything anyway – the law stated that the possessions of a noble family only passed to those of their blood.

"Then are you that person with blue eyes and blond hair, Mister?" her voice quietened, becoming barely more than a whisper. He felt something soft brush against his cheek and stilled, recognising what it was – the touch of a girl's fingers, tracing over his cheekbones and his nose. "You came to find me," she murmured, almost as though in wonder. Then suddenly her hand reached down to his shoulder, patting along his shoulder blade and sliding down to his upper arm, gripping it tightly. Suddenly, she seemed almost desperate. "Take me away from here. Please. Marry me and take me away," her voice was still quiet, but it was a lot more urgent now than it was just seconds ago.

"Come with me then. Lead me out of this cellar," he invited. She slid her hand down his arm and tugged on his hand, pulling him towards the staircase. He followed behind her, glad to have found Cinderella and that he would finally be led out of the darkness – as they went up the stairs, him occasionally stumbling over the stone steps, he saw the girl enter the square of light, illuminating her from the front, but he couldn't see her face. He wanted to see what she looked like so he hurried up the stairs after her, eager to be back in the light of the kitchen – then they burst out of the cellar.

The Dowager Duchess Hatsune was waiting for him in the kitchen, the two sisters gone from the room. He saw the glimmer of teal beside him and glanced down to look at the girl who had been trapped in the cellar – green eyes burned back at him, filled with a fire he simply couldn't describe. It was passionate and vigorous, the look of someone who knew what she wanted and had a plan to achieve it as well. _Determined_ , that was the word. He looked away from that piercing gaze, realising that for once he could see her face without the hindrance of a mask, and he wondered what he should expect.

She was beautiful. That was hardly surprising, of course – he had already known she was pretty, even with the mask on at the ball. Her face was streaked with dust and grime, probably due to being locked in the cellar. She was wearing a dull dress that was just as filthy as the rest of her, her long teal hair the only thing that didn't seem to be covered in dirt. But even then she was a stunning beauty, with those blazing eyes and her petite, delicate features – one could see the blood of an aristocrat in her poise and her cheekbones, high and arching. She had pink lips shaped like a rosebud, with just a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose – it made her look elfin and particularly endearing, and he was actually mesmerised for a while, staring at the lovely girl who had danced with him for three nights. It was fortunate that she wasn't hideous – if he had to marry someone he didn't love, then it was good that she was pretty, at least. "So you are Cinderella?"

"Could I be anyone else?" she replied archly, raising a single, perfectly shaped eyebrow. Of course she did have flaws, those freckles being one of them – though it was hard to determine if those freckles marred her face or just made her lovelier – and, now that he was looking so closely, he could see that her nose was just a tiny bit off-centre. But that didn't draw attention away from her beauty overall. In fact, he found he was becoming rather distracted. Little wonder that Shion Kaito fell for her within the short span of one night. "Didn't you propose to me last night? Why don't you finish what you started, Prince Romeo?" she tilted her head, her long teal hair draping gently over one shoulder.

He reached out to loop a stray lock of hair behind her ear, drinking her appearance in and committing it to memory. "All right, Cinderella," he lowered his gaze to her lips, watching them curve up into a knowing smile. This was someone with a plan for something, and he would not let his guard down around her – though he would marry her, he would also keep in mind that she was scarcely what she appeared to be. "Follow me then, and I'll take you away from this place," he glanced up at the Duchess, who simply watched quietly and said nothing. He wondered if she was happy about what he was doing. "As long as that would please you, of course," he added.

"Nothing would please me more," she laughed, a bubbly sound filled with joy, as she took hold of his hand and followed him out of the kitchen. She did not once turn back to look at the duchess.


	11. Chapter 11

Frost and Gumo were waiting for them patiently, Frost's ears pricking upwards as she heard him coming. His mystery girl was clinging on tightly to his arm, her fingers digging into his skin.

Millions of questions ran through his head when he glanced back at her – she was dirty, skin streaked with dust and grime, but she was still breathtakingly beautiful, and it made him wonder how anyone else had not noticed her before the ball. Surely a girl so stunning would have plenty of suitors, yet she was locked away in a mansion – as punishment of some sort? She seemed used to her treatment too, which was rather strange for a noble lady…was she really aristocratic or not?

"Is that her?" his butler questioned, looking around when Frost let out a whinny. Gumo seemed rather surprised, which was only to be expected – Len himself did not think that he would find his partner of three nights in such a state. The girl, whose real name up till now he still did not know, tightened her grip on his arm at the sight of another man. He glanced back at her again, but she wore an expression of curiosity rather than fear, and he wondered why she held on to him so tightly.

"Yes, indeed," his reply was curt. He didn't intend to sound so snappish, but his words just came out like that – the air of disbelief around his butler was mildly offensive. Gumo openly stared, and the girl returned his gaze, studying him with equal intensity. It was odd being in the middle of such an exchange, and he reached up to pry her fingers away from his arm, drawing their attention back to him. The girl did not say anything – she had not said a single word since they exited the mansion – but his butler suddenly looked remarkably flustered, bustling around to untether the two horses.

"Don't get me wrong," Gumo whispered when he came close enough to the prince – the girl was standing a little distance away from them, eyeing the horses warily. He'd bet that she had never ridden on a horse before. "She's every bit as beautiful as you said, but if she's really a noble lady then why is she so…filthy?" he tugged on Frost's reins as he spoke, dragging the reluctant mare out from the coolness of the shade. Len shrugged, looking once more at his new fiancée – he felt like her past should be kept a secret from even his butler, since there was something almost… _taboo_ about her very existence. There had to be a reason why the Hatsune family had her locked up and sealed away like that, and he was determined to get to the very bottom of it. Perhaps there was some connection between this girl and the dead daughter of the Hatsune family. There were some similarities…

If he had not come today, how long would she be locked away in that cellar for? And the Grand Dowager Duchess had asked him to take her away with him even before she led him to her, entirely disregarding the girl's personal wishes. He couldn't really tell if the older woman wanted him to save the girl, or just get her away from their house. "I'd prefer not to talk about her origins. Her own past is something she should talk about; as a second party, I don't think I'm at any liberty to discuss what I have no first-hand experience with," he answered. His butler fell silent, but he could practically see the green haired man thinking, glancing every so often at the girl. She didn't seem to notice him.

"What's your name?" he turned and asked her, and she looked up in surprise, green eyes widening. He noticed that her fingers were curled up into fists at her sides. "You never told me your name. I heard rumours at the ball that you're a distant relative of my father… _but you and I both know that is not true_ ," he leant close to her, whispering into her ear so that his butler would not hear him. She didn't respond to that statement, though she continued watching him, her face expressionless.

They had a sort of stare-off on that street then, for he refused to budge without hearing an answer and she seemed set on keeping her mouth shut. Her green eyes were carefully blank, and her lips parted slightly, but not a single word was voiced. The seconds seemed to stretch and stretch with never a response from her, much to his growing impatience. "Tell me. I can't possibly announce that the name of my new fiancée is Cinderella, can I?" he added, this time in a snappish manner. A small smile flitted over her face and she looked away from him, seemingly amused. It got on his nerves, but he tried not to let the irritation flit across his face. She was already entertained enough.

"Are you threatening me?" she asked. "You sound very demanding, Prince Romeo. After all, I don't know your real name either," she shrugged gracefully, her slender shoulders arching slightly in a fluid, continuous movement. "I'll tell you my name if you tell me yours!" she offered brightly, and she sounded so much like a child then that it made him lose his irritation, though only momentarily.

"What is this, a game?" he snapped, ignoring the curious looks of his butler as he continued pandering to the girl. He was sure Gumo had never seen his master behaving in this way before. Len was normally very direct with what he wanted, and he wasn't quite sure himself why he was being so evasive this time. He could have always just ignored her words and pulled her over to Frost, but he knew he couldn't be brutal. He was not callous or cruel, and after seeing the cellar the girl was locked in, after seeing her sorry state, he knew he couldn't just ignore her, or forget that she was an individual with her own rights. He would not give her any chance to think that he was a brutal or domineering prince. Her reluctance to answer him, however, was making that difficult for him.

"You are being awfully impatient," she observed. "You were much more gentlemanly at the ball! Could it be that now I've agreed to marry you, you've lost all sense of decorum?" her words, though spoken in a calm and even manner, made him flinch. It seemed like an accusation. Surely she could not have seen through his intentions so quickly. How could he possibly admit that he was marrying her for a different agenda? He didn't love her, but he had to find out more about her, and given her very… _unique_ circumstances and her mysterious background, he couldn't think of any other way.

"No, of course not. I asked you to marry me because I'm interested in you as a person, Cinderella," he answered just as smoothly, telling himself to stay calm and collected. It did not matter if he didn't manage to find out her name today – there would always be other opportunities. "It's all very well if you don't wish to tell me for now. Shall we return to the palace?" he gestured towards his horse, who had been waiting patiently for them the whole time – though the mare continuously shot the girl scathing, almost contemptuous looks. He did not forget that the girl had a fear of horses, so he was not in the least bit surprised when she edged slowly towards the horse then abruptly retreated.

"I think…I think I shall walk," she mumbled weakly, "or sit with the other horse," they both glanced towards Gumo and his brown mare, who definitely looked much more placid and of a more pleasant disposition than Frost. His butler shot him a look of surprise and trepidation – how bold of her, to declare she would ride with another man! But he understood, and he had to be careful about how he behaved towards her – he had to convince her that he wished to marry her for who she was, and not for more. He could not afford for her to be wary of him or his intentions in marrying her.

"Very well, you can ride with my butler. I shall take Frost back to the palace first. I trust that you will escort her to my room once you have reached the palace?" he addressed his green haired butler directly, turning away from the girl. Gumo, whose face still registered surprise, nodded quickly and bowed towards the girl, leading her towards his horse. Len quickly got up onto Frost's saddle, and with a gleeful shout, Frost shot into motion, galloping up the cobblestone streets back towards the palace. Come to think of it, it was a good thing that he didn't have to bring the girl with him. Len liked to ride fast, feeling the wind against his face – and he had no doubt he wouldn't be able to do the same thing if his fiancée was sitting behind him. Few noblewomen actually liked such speed.

Miku gaped after the blond prince, who had rode off so quickly that he was now but a small speck the distance, gleaming white and golden under the rays of the sun. The green haired man, whom Miku took to be a servant or butler of some sort, coughed politely in a bid to catch her attention. She turned towards him at once and noticed that he was already mounted on the horse, and he was holding out a hand to bring her up onto the saddle as well. Carefully, she took hold of his hand, still wary about being so near to a horse, and he supported her effortlessly as she pushed herself up onto the animal. It snorted as she settled herself behind the servant, and her heart sped up in fear, her hands slightly clammy with sweat. She hated horses – not so much that she absolutely couldn't stand being near one or riding on one, but she had no fondness for them either.

"You do not like horses, my Lady?" the man asked, sounding curious. She wondered how he knew, then realised that one of her hands was still gripping his waist, the material of his uniform creasing beneath her fingers. She hastily removed her hand, transferring her hold onto the saddle instead.

"No, I don't particularly like them," she answered faintly, hating that her voice no longer held the same playful confidence as it did just moments ago. Her words were soft and helpless and utterly unlike herself, but she couldn't seem to inject any strength into her voice. The servant only nodded quietly in acknowledgement before he shook the reins, and the horse set off – neither too fast nor too slow, for which she was grateful. When she looked down, she could see the animal swaying and the pavement passing by beneath her, and it made her feel queasy, so she forced herself to look straight ahead and ignore the temptation to look at the ground. She thought it might make her sick.

She knew it was a short trip to the palace from the mansion, and that the prince must already be waiting for her at his home. But the normally quick journey seemed to stretch on to forever as she rode behind the silent servant, the morning sun climbing ever higher into the sky as time passed. It would be noon soon, if her sense of time did not fail her. She had not been too sure what time it was when she was let out of the cellar. "What is your name?" she asked, almost swallowing her words when the horse beneath them sped up a little. She hoped that speaking to him might distract her a little from the growing feeling of nausea. The man glanced back at her, eyebrows lifting.

"Nakajima Gumo," he replied, as polite as ever. "I am the prince's personal butler," he did not say anything else, and the minutes of silence that passed after that just made her feel more and more queasy. Her grip on the brown leather saddle was so tight that the skin over her knuckles, already fair to begin with, had turned completely white. She must look absolutely horrid at the moment, with dust and filth covering her and, with near absolute certainty, a sickly pallor to her face.

"Tell me something," she almost begged, but her pride would never allow her to plead, not even for her life. The words came out sounding more like a command than a request. "The silence is tense, and being on a horse does not make me feel any better," she looked around as she spoke, noticing that the mansions they were passing were getting grander and grander. They were approaching the uphill path that led up to the palace, and this would be the most difficult and tedious stretch of their journey. She felt terrible enough when they were walking on fairly even ground, so she didn't want to think about what it would be like when they started to climb. "Tell me more about the prince!"

"The prince?" Gumo, the butler, sounded thoughtful. "There's not much to say, really. But he is a fair man. Somewhat alcoholic, perhaps even dysfunctional, but he is not cold nor is he cruel. He is a good person to serve," the butler chuckled, much to her surprise. "Not that there is much to serve, when he so rarely requests anything of his servants. I have little to say about him, my Lady," he sounded apologetic. She thanked him for the description of his master anyway, and found that her breathing was not as uneven as before. The butler's words left her much to ponder about, and it distracted her enough that she didn't really pay much attention when the horse started ascending the hill.

There was very little she knew about the prince, and come to think of it, the gossip she overheard between her stepsisters or the excited girls at the ball didn't seem to centre much on his past either. She knew that the prince lost his one love, and that he was adopted by the king – but she knew absolutely nothing else about him. She didn't even dare to claim that she understood him personality-wise, and hearing what his butler said about him was…interesting, to say the least. She had pegged him down as independent, risk-taking and frivolous from the start, but dysfunctional? Not really. In fact, should a servant even be describing his master in such a…imperfect manner?

It made her wonder about what sort of man she had gotten herself attached to. But of course, that would be the least of her concerns. She was not about to stay in the kingdom and run Ossyria – leave that to the king, who was still young and strong. She only used the royal ties of the prince to get away from her stepfamily, and that was all. She would not leave forever, only enough to see the world, and then…and then? She hesitated at this. What would she do after she had seen everything she wanted to see? Would she come back to reclaim her peerage? She did not care very much about her noble titles and her dwindling fortune, but ultimately it still belonged to _her_. She didn't want her family's legacy to die out with blood strangers. But reclaiming it might be difficult for her.

After all, everyone seemed to think she was dead. The prince thought that Hatsune Miku was dead too. If even the royal family, who supposedly knew the whereabouts and lives of all the aristocracy, thought that she was dead, then it would be an uphill battle when it came to convincing the king that she was the real Hatsune Miku, not some imposter laying claim to the title. Should she really care so much about her name? She knew though, deep down, that even if she wanted to discard her title entirely she couldn't do it. It was in her name and her blood – she was a Hatsune, and she had to come back to reclaim her land and her family's reputation. It was only right for her to do so.

Her late father would have wanted it…she sighed audibly, and at the same time she felt the horse beneath her jerk to a stop. Startled, she looked up and realised that they were already outside the palace – she didn't know that time passed so quickly while she was contemplating her future. The butler before her dismounted first, before reaching out a hand to help her down from the horse. Gratefully, she clasped his hand tightly, trying not to exclaim when the horse moved beneath her, threatening to make her slip off the saddle. Oh, how she hated horses. Her eyes narrowed at the beast once she was safely on firm ground, deciding she would not ride on a horse again unless it was absolutely necessary – riding in a carriage seemed to be safe and efficient enough for her.

"The prince bade me show you the way to his quarters when you arrive, so please follow me, my Lady," the green haired butler spoke quietly but firmly, once again breaking into her thoughts. She nodded and followed him as he led the way into the palace – she looked up at the tall, imposing walls as she walked through the archway of the front courtyard, marvelling at the regal building and the amazing architecture of the whitewashed exterior. It was the first time she had seen the palace up close in the day. At night, it was even more spectacular, lit up with radiant candlelight and every single window shining, but it had a quiet, serene beauty of its own in the morning light as well.

The palace interior was already rather different from what she remembered last night. It was much cleaner – no, not clean, the palace was always clean. Perhaps minimalistic was the right word – and quieter than on the last night of the ball. There were also fewer servants bustling around in the passageway, since they were no longer needed to shepherd the aristocracy and show them around the palace. The interior was a rich burgundy, and with the large windows allowing sunlight to shine in on the walls, it made the area expand and look, somehow, remarkably peaceful. She almost wanted to say something, but the richness of the place made her hold her tongue. She felt so out of place here that it made her vaguely uncomfortable, but she knew that would have to change.

The butler led her up two flights of stairs towards the second floor, where she remembered there was a large window with a beautiful view of the whole town. She tried to remember the path he took after arriving on this floor, but after the sixth turn she gave up – he had gone left, then right, then walked down a corridor, then left again…all these twists and turns were too confusing for her to remember straightaway, when she was still so mesmerised by the beauty of the palace. Eventually, the butler came to a stop before a simple door – dark brown mahogany set against the lush, rich wallpaper. It was quite a contrast, and in all honesty she didn't think the door to the prince's room would be so…well, plain. She didn't know what she had expected, but it definitely wasn't this – this looked like the kind of door that could be found in any nobleman's mansion, not one that would belong to the royal family. She thought maybe the door would be, well, silver or something else just as ridiculously opulent, but apparently she was wrong about the prince's tastes.

Gumo knocked precisely three times on the door. "Your Highness, I've brought your fiancée," he called through the wood. After a few seconds of silence, there was a sound of assent, and Miku swallowed as Gumo twisted the doorknob, opening the door so that she could catch her first glimpse of the prince's living quarters. Her eyes widened as she took everything in – it was so very unlike what she was used to back in her mansion, especially in her tiny old attic room.

For one thing, the room definitely was much bigger than hers, and it had a higher ceiling too. The walls of this room lacked the deep wine wallpaper of the palace and instead, it was a simple, dark mahogany that was much like the prince's door. The room was kept neat and simple, but the few things she could see placed outside hinted at marvellous craftsmanship and quality – the dresser, the navy blue carpet, the thick grey curtains, and a wide desk with a beautiful form. And the bed right in the middle of the room – it was big and looked _extremely_ comfortable, with a thick mattress that was far more appealing than her thin, threadbare one in the attic. The prince was seated at the desk mentioned earlier, watching her with a small grin on his face as she gaped at his room.

"I shall leave then," Gumo said quickly, before he turned and shut the door. She almost protested – for some reason, she suddenly felt rather nervous about being left alone with the prince – but the butler was gone before she could say a single word. She glanced back at the prince, who was still watching her lazily, a look of amusement on his face. Miku was not sure what to say, or if she even had to say anything, so she remained silent and waited for him to reveal what was on his mind. She was sure he would speak up before long – from what she observed of the past three nights at the ball, the prince rarely remained quiet for long. True enough, he was the one who broke the silence.

"So how do you find your surroundings so far?" he asked, one elbow placed on the desk, the other hand draped over the back of his chair. He was turned sideways in his chair, and she saw that there were half-written letters on his table – or were they notes about something? She couldn't be sure from such a distance. "The palace looks rather different in the day. I like it in the daytime, actually," he shrugged, "it just doesn't seem as…stifling. I guess you like it better in the daytime as well?" his piercing blue eyes lingered on her knowingly, and for a moment she was utterly distracted by how handsome he was. She always knew he was handsome, but without the mask there to temper the pull of his gaze, his blue eyes were all the more magnetic. She started feeling a little flustered.

But she wasn't _that_ attracted to him, of course. He was extremely good-looking, but her top priority was still to enjoy herself and see the sights of the world, not be stuck in the palace learning how to rule and govern a country alongside her husband. "It does look nice in the morning," she agreed with him. "Though it looks very grand at night, with all the decorations and the festivities. I suppose that you would prefer the former, since you have been through all the events held in the past and must be used to the formal decorations," she stared straight back at him. He laughed before rising from his seat and walking over to her. She chose not to move or back away, determined to show him that she was not a pushover – just in case he happened to think that she was weak, just because she was a girl. She was an aristocrat who had been treated like a servant for years, and she was not the same as the pampered wealthy ladies who flocked to him when he smiled. She would let him know that.

"You are very observant, aren't you, Cinderella?" he asked, stopping right before her. His blue eyes narrowed at her, studying her carefully, as though he was aware that his eyes might be her one and only weakness when it came to him. She forced herself to look back and not avert her gaze, though she was extremely tempted to, and had to struggle to regulate her breathing when he reached up, tilting her chin upwards with his fingers. Such was the power of a mask when it came to controlling someone's gaze – he certainly did not have _such_ an effect on her when she could not see his face. "What is your name?" he leant down towards her and whispered in her ear, voice soft and sensual.

"Now that is something for you to find out yourself," she breathed back, her name being the one thing she knew she absolutely could not reveal, at least not at this stage. If she claimed she was Hatsune Miku, she might at best be judged insane, at worst an imposter, a criminal of some sort. Plus she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he brought her to the palace for a reason other than to marry her – after all, at first he had not wanted to marry her, right? She was confident about her looks and her charm, but she wasn't stupid either, and she felt that his sudden change in opinion was influenced by a lot more than just how taken he was with her. But what was the reason? It could be anything, so any personal information about herself now was something she had to guard.

"Aren't you my fiancée? My soon-to-be wife? So surely I should at least know what your real name is," he argued back, stubborn as a mule. She could feel his breath against her skin – warm, but not disgustingly so. She narrowed her eyes at him and jerked away from his grip, but just as she stepped back from him, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. He yanked her back towards him, not so close that they would touch but close enough for him to encroach on her personal space. Her hand twitched, but she figured she probably wouldn't be able to break his grip. She resisted the urge to glare at him, and he continued smiling knowingly at her. Living with him would no doubt be a pain.

"I recall you being _much_ politer just last night," she retorted, evading the question. He grinned at her, almost challenging her to shake him off, and she was so tempted to try. But she knew she wouldn't be able to break free without resorting to actual violence, and she wasn't at the stage where she would attempt to hurt the prince just to get away from him. Well, not yet, anyway. "I will tell you my name when…when the time is right," she blurted out, hoping this will distract him.

It worked to some extent. His grin dipped into a frown. "And why is now not the right time?" he asked, his grip on her wrist slackening just a little. She wondered if it was enough for her to tug her hand away now, her mind racing to come up with a believable reason as to why her name was such a secret. Honestly, she couldn't immediately think of anything that wouldn't make her sound like she was crazy, but then again she was pretty good at coming up with solutions to tricky situations.

"Because…I don't think…we know each other well enough for me to tell you my name yet," she finally blurted out. He blinked at her, clearly surprised by such an answer, and she used his momentary silence to her advantage, barrelling on with her response. "I mean, we've only known each other for three nights, right? And I don't know about Ossyria, but where I come from, the name is an extremely important part of our identity and we only reveal it to other people when we have established some form of close relationship. So I'm afraid that revealing my name to you now would contradict my upbringing," she prayed fervently that the prince had never actually been to Veracent before, because if he did then he would know that she was lying through her teeth. She had no idea if Veracent really had such a strange custom or not, and hopefully the prince wouldn't know either.

Len was not quite sure whether or not he ought to believe her. On one hand, what she was saying sounded utterly, completely ridiculous, and he had a suspicion that she was lying. On the other hand, she seemed obstinate about not telling him her real name, at least not at this very moment, and if he continued pressuring her then it might lead to some unfortunate consequences. He was not very well-acquainted with her now, that was true, and he didn't know very much about her personality – but judging from how she greeted him when he first stumbled into her cellar, she was fairly aggressive and provoking her further might not be such a good idea. Perhaps he ought to stand down for now and bring her attention to other matters…there would always be other opportunities.

He let go of her wrist, and she immediately whipped her hand away, cradling it against her chest like it was an injured chick. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, mildly concerned, but she simply shot him a look and shook her head, her other hand clutching her wrist. He flinched at the almost accusatory glance, knowing that his behaviour was far from gentlemanly, but he wasn't sure how to proceed now he had the girl in the palace. He had to find out if she was Hatsune Miku or not – it was one way he could repay his adopted father for saving his life and raising him as his own – but she was making it difficult. He had hoped that he would be able to seduce her and persuade her into revealing what her true identity was, but it seemed like things wouldn't be that simple. "Very well, if you don't want to tell me your name, then explain to me why Shion Kaito referred to you as a Kamui last night," he demanded, suddenly recalling this one interesting nugget of information. She sighed resignedly.

"I had to use a name at the ball, otherwise the other noblemen would have found me suspicious. I was trying to find a husband, remember?" she glanced up at him from beneath her long eyelashes, suddenly morphing back into the coquettish Cinderella he knew from the ball. It was such a change from the defensive, challenging Cinderella that he stared, unable to otherwise react to the swiftness of her transformation. "So I decided to use the name of the king, as that would no doubt draw attention to me and make me more desirable to the other young men. I admit that was wrong of me, to have taken advantage of the king's good name, and I am fully prepared to face any consequences," she bowed her head, her hand still clasped to her chest. He frowned at her words.

He still had absolutely no idea if she was lying to him or not. Of course, this sounded a lot more plausible than the nonsense she spouted about Veracent customs and not being able to reveal her true name until they were well-acquainted – still ridiculous, but at least slightly more believable. He decided that for this time, he would give her the benefit of the doubt. "I won't tell my father about this. I doubt he would mind, either. You're going to be his daughter-in-law soon anyway, and that does, in part, make you a Kamui," he smiled, though he knew that it wasn't a particularly cheerful smile. "However, right now the king wants an audience with you. He wants to talk to my fiancée you see – probably ask you a few questions about how you convinced me to marry you. He's quite shocked that I really did find someone to marry at the ball, since I am normally so…stubborn. At least, according to him," he shrugged again. "I most certainly disagree, but what else can I say?"

He didn't wait for her to respond before he turned, leading the way out of his room. She scurried after him, to his surprise – he had almost expected her to defy him and stay in the room, but then again even she probably did not dare to defy the will of the king. "I will leave you after bringing you to the throne room," he warned, "so remember the way we take well, because I won't be around to show you how to get back here and there's no guarantee there will be any servants around to show you the way either. Besides, you need to start learning your way around since you're going to stay here at the palace. I can't possibly have my fiancée always getting lost when walking around here."

"Find my way back here?" she echoed, falling into step beside him. He caught a glimpse of her long teal hair as she hurried along the passageway, her fair skin still streaked with dirt, and belatedly realised that maybe he should have sent her to take a bath before bringing her to see the king. Nevertheless, her beauty did not wilt even beneath all the dust and dirt. She was stunning, and no doubt would be even more beautiful when she was clean. He caught himself wistfully thinking about last night, when she actually had been clean and smelled like fresh flowers…but quickly, he snapped himself out of it. "Why would I need to find my way back here? Shouldn't I look for my own sleeping quarters instead?" she sounded confused. At her words, he stopped walking, and so did she, her face tilted up as she stared at him curiously. He was unsure if her innocent uncertainty was genuine or not – surely no one could be so… _oblivious_. Did she really think she would be sleeping alone?

"Don't be silly. You're my fiancée now, Cinderella," he reached out to cup her cheek, fingers gently rubbing away one of the dirt streaks on her face. She didn't move, and he could feel how warm her skin was against his fingers. "Of course you won't be sleeping alone…you'll be sleeping with me."


	12. Chapter 12

Miku kept her thoughts to herself as she walked down the hallway, following the prince the whole time. They weren't talking, each of them clearly thinking about something but not willing to share it with the other party. For her, she was panicking about having an audience with the king.

She was painfully aware of how filthy she must look. She had not missed the incredulous look on Nakajima Gumo's face when he first saw her and the state she was in. She knew that it was highly improper to show herself before the ruler of this land while she was covered in dust and grime, but it seemed to be far too late to take a bath before she met the king. Hopefully the king would be as tolerant of her dirtiness as his adopted son evidently was – she could only pray.

She also wondered what the king could possibly want to say to her, or talk to her about. The prince said that the king wished to chat with the girl who could sway his son's stubborn decisions, but she was utterly unprepared for this. Maybe she should have thought further ahead with her planning, made up some kind of illustrious, elaborate family tree – but honestly she hadn't really believed her plan would work to this extent, so all she had were the faintest sketches of a mysterious past, a hastily weaved tale of loss, poverty, and the fortunate discovery that her aunt, the current Dowager Duchess Hatsune, was alive and willing to care for her. She was sure the king would know she was part of the Hatsune family, given the rumours she was spreading at the ball those three nights, and that the prince himself knew where to find her. But would the king be able to see through her lies?

The prince was walking up the stairs now, towards the floor with the throne room. She was nervous about following him but follow she did – what else could she do? She couldn't possibly just run away, not when she was stuck in the palace like this. However, when they got to the next landing, instead of turning towards the throne room like she expected, the prince turned the other way and walked down the corridor, towards a bend in the passageway that she had not noticed the previous time she was here. She followed him hastily, shooting looks of curiosity towards the other end of the long passageway, where she could see the tall, imposing double doors of the throne room. There were no guards standing outside today...maybe it was because the king wasn't inside, or maybe the guards were only present when there were many visitors within the palace.

"My father only uses the throne room for important visitors, actually. Like other lords and nobles, or visiting royals. Most definitely not for members of the family," the prince caught her looking back at the throne room and rightly guessed why she was looking so confused. "You don't need to worry so much, Cinderella," he continued, "my father simply wants a friendly chat with you. He's not going to carry out any background checks or ask about your history or lineage...at least, not today," his blue eyes glimmered with humour, but even then she wasn't quite sure if he was joking or not.

She didn't reply, instead choosing to just nod her head and swallow, fisting her skirts nervously as she walked. It was rather unladylike, that was true, but she thought that she could be forgiven for her behaviour given her circumstances. The prince turned a corner and still she followed, wondering where they were going – she had not seen this particular area in the palace yet, so it was unfamiliar to her. "You don't need to be nervous," the prince spoke again, glancing across at her. Was the fear on her face really that obvious, such that he would comment on it? "My father is an easy-going man who doesn't abuse his authority. Well, at least most of the time he doesn't," there was a crooked smile on his lips. She allowed herself a small grin as well, but she still wasn't entirely at ease yet.

They turned twice, for the first corridor they turned into was empty and had nothing – just a long passageway, covered in the same lush velvet wallpaper, the thick carpet muffling their footsteps. Her hands and feet were starting to feel cold. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so nervous – it had to be when she was little, when she still had to talk to older noblemen when they came to their mansion to see her father…there was nothing for her to be afraid of when she was doing menial tasks for Anastasia and Lucinda. It was tedious and something far beneath her given her status as aristocracy, she knew that, but at least it was mind-numbing work and she knew her stepsisters well. She did not know this man they were about to meet. She barely even knew his son.

There were a few doors on each wall for this particular corridor. It was quiet here, and there was only her and the prince. Suddenly it seemed like they were in a world of their own, and some little corner of her mind wondered if it was possible to become lost in the palace forever. From the outside, it didn't look _that_ big, but the interior was like a maze meant to trap anyone stupid enough to wander in. Maybe she was one of those stupid tourists the palace had claimed as its own.

"My father is probably in his room, since it's still so early. We aren't expecting any formal guests today so he'll probably be in his room all day…" she thought the prince was about to roll his eyes, but he didn't. Then again that probably would have been a mark of disrespect, especially since the man he was referring to was the monarch himself. "You'd be surprised at how lazy my father is. I sometimes wonder if he regrets taking the throne, actually. Oh, but don't let anyone know I told you that," he added, "that's just something I noticed for myself and it wouldn't be good if anyone else found out about the king's real nature, right?" he smiled. She nodded, not failing to miss the glint in his blue eyes. It promised that she would be in some trouble if she let anything slip. It wasn't like she was going to blab to anyone about the king, anyway. She didn't exactly have any friends to talk to.

"Is it really proper for me to speak with the king though, when I'm in…such a state?" she gestured at herself, indicating her dress and face in all their grimy, dirt-covered glory. She was very sure she saw his lips tilt up, very quickly, in the briefest of smiles, but before she could even blink the smile was gone and he was back to looking solemn. He paused, making her stop walking instinctively as well, and regarded her from head to toe. She could feel herself shrinking slightly at his appraisal, but she forced herself to stand straight and hold her chin up. She could not forget that she, too, was a noble and had all right to stand before the prince now, even if she was covered in filth. Normally she wouldn't even have such qualms, but wearing her servant's garb made her feel very self-conscious.

It was surprising that he had not noticed she was wearing the rags of a maid, but maybe he didn't see it because of how dirty she and her outfit were. After all, her clothes were a shabby, patchy dark grey and the cellar was so filthy that her dress now looked black. Hopefully he wouldn't start paying attention to her outfit, because that would no doubt raise even more questions about her true identity and, at the moment, she was feeling too overwhelmed by the success of her plan and her impending meeting with the king to field any difficult questions the prince shot her way. She would be able to think on her feet once her meeting was concluded, but until then her heart was in her throat and she just wanted all this to be over and done with. Maybe after this she would be able to take a nice warm bath, and wash the grime away from her body. Her skin was already beginning to itch.

"Of course it's not proper," he finally answered, "but my father said he wanted to meet you as soon as you are in the palace, and I admit that neither my father nor I expected you to be in…such a state when you got here. He will not be offended, as I said earlier my father is a very easy-going man, but if you are truly concerned then I can explain to him the circumstances under which I found you…only if you want this, of course," he held her gaze curiously. She admitted to herself that it would be nice, to have the king know that her uncleanliness was not out of disregard for him, but that would also mean there was yet another person she had to deceive about her past, and right at this very moment she couldn't think of any excuse as to why she, as a noble lady, was locked in a cellar. So she shook her head and they went on their way, her fingertips starting to feel icy cold.

The prince brought her to one of the two doors that lined the right wall of the passageway. With a gentle knock, he pushed the door open and she slowly walked in, keeping her gaze lowered. She could see, some distance away from her, a pair of dark embroidered mules set with small red gems, probably rubies. She swallowed, keeping her head down, and it was only when she heard a deep voice asking her to rise did she dare to lift her gaze. The king was standing right before her, with his trademark long, purple flowy locks and deep sapphire eyes. Her first thought was that he seemed almost sad, but she caught herself. What could the king possibly have to be sad about?

"So you are the girl who caught my son's fancy," his gaze flitted across her face, taking in each feature. She resisted the urge to fidget, suddenly hyperaware of the prince's presence behind her, watching her and his father with keen intent. "I always thought that, if there was one person my son would marry from the ball, it would be you, the girl he actually bothered to spend any time with all three nights. And what did you call yourself again?" the king paused, as though he was struggling to remember, and suddenly his face lit up. "Oh, yes – Cinderella, wasn't it?" he beamed at her.

She felt a little uncomfortable. Given that she was talking to the king himself now, it didn't feel right to be lying about her name at all. But she reminded herself that she couldn't just let slip her real name while she was in the palace, not when everyone thought she was dead. She would have to think of some way to prove that she was Hatsune Miku, not some imposter, but how? The best she could think of at this point was to describe her old home and the summer cottage she used to spend time in, but any noble who visited the Hatsune family often could do the same thing. Besides, the summer cottage was still a very sensitive issue for her. Her father had died there, and supposedly she had as well. "Yes, Cinderella," she smiled back, though it probably looked more like a grimace.

"You must be a charming young woman!" the king's gaze lingered on her curiously, but she didn't allow her smile to slip. She had little doubt that the king thought the same things about her as his adopted son did. They were the prince and king of the country, after all. They probably shared all sorts of information with each other, and she was still convinced that the prince had proposed to her with some kind of hidden agenda. "I do look forward to spending more time with you. Ah, but you mentioned that Cinderella is a nickname your aunt bestowed upon you, isn't it? Is there any other name that we could use instead? It is very strange to not know your real name, to tell the truth."

She knew that question was coming. She knew the very moment the prince had asked her for her real name. She glanced back at the prince, wondering what he was doing and how he would react to the question his father posed – the blond haired boy was leaning casually against the wall next to the door, his arms folded across his chest. His features were impassive, and when he met her gaze, he tilted his head slightly, probably curious about what she would tell the king. She felt terrible for this was treason, and if she was exposed for a liar she would no doubt be punished, but she knew it would be better for her to keep her identity secret. Until she knew what their intentions were…

"My name is Cinderella," she said firmly, lowering her gaze once more in a show of respect, though in truth it was so she could avoid looking at the king. His deep blue eyes were piercing, even more so than his son's – if she lied while looking him in the eye, she felt like he would be able to tell. "It is a custom in my country to not reveal one's true name until they are properly acquainted with the other party. Unfortunately, I do not feel comfortable about telling you my true birth name for now, but I'm certain the time will come," she glanced back at the prince once more. He was staring right at her, face still unreadable as ever, and she suddenly recalled him saying that he wouldn't be staying around during her audience with the king. If that was the case, then why was he still here?

The king let out an audible sigh. "I understand, and I would not wish to make you feel unwelcome. We will refer to you as Cinderella then, at least until you decide the time is apt for you to tell us your name," he reached out, his hand patting her gently on the shoulder. She was a little startled, not knowing how to react since the most important person in the land had just touched her, but she managed to hold herself still and not say or do anything embarrassing. "I don't really have anything else to say, I suppose you will tell us more interesting stories about yourself as time goes on in the palace. I do look forward to learning more about you, Cinderella," his smile was infectious, and she caught her own lips curving up into a smile as she curtsied and backed away, towards the door.

The prince caught her by the arm, and she turned to look at him, her eyes narrowing. Before she could say anything though, he dragged her out of the room into the outside corridor, not letting go of her until the door was closed behind them. Irritably, she shook herself free – she didn't appreciate being pulled around like that, even if he was royalty and her soon-to-be husband. The very idea made her shudder. Marriage was nothing but a lock and chain – a married noblewoman could only stay at home and look beautiful, or go to functions with her husband and hang on to his every word, tittering politely and showering him with attention. She refused to do any of those things.

"I thought you were leaving after you showed me to the king's room. And that was a remarkably short audience – I expected it to be longer," it felt a little anticlimactic, to tell the truth. She had been panicking about having a conversation with the king, but it had only lasted for less than five minutes, most probably. The prince shot her a droll look, his pretty eyes such an intense shade of blue that for a moment, she couldn't really remember how to speak. Then she shook herself out of it. People said that eyes were the windows to the soul, but when he looked at her she felt like _he_ was the one opening a window to _her_ soul. How could anyone have a gaze so impossibly piercing?

"My father is a busy man. Surely you don't expect him to pander to your whims all day," the smile on his face was the only thing that prevented him from sounding harsh. "As for leaving…that was my intention at first, but then I thought it might be interesting to hear what you had to say to my father. I didn't think you would dare to lie to the king of this land. But now I wonder why I even thought that," he shook his head slowly. "I mean, I'm the prince and royalty of this country as well, but you clearly don't have any qualms about hiding your name from me, do you?" a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but he didn't seem particularly cheerful. She felt like he was accusing her of something actually, and it wasn't a very nice feeling. She tried hard not to sound defensive.

"As I said, it is a custom in my home country," she said hotly, tilting her head upwards so she could look directly into his eyes. He didn't back down, staring back with the same intensity she was slowly started to get used to. "I would tell you but I honestly do not feel comfortable with just letting people know my name, not when they barely know me at all. It doesn't matter even if you're the prince or the king," they just looked at each other since he didn't say anything in response to her, and for the longest time she wondered if they were just going to stand here and stare at each other until lunch time. He was relentless, and neither one of them were willing to budge. He looked as though he was searching for something, but he wouldn't find that thing in the depths of her eyes.

Suddenly, he shrugged. "Very well, if you insist," he turned away, walking down the corridor once more. Glad at her victory, though slightly confused as to why he was the one to look away first – she thought it would have been her, she had been very close to giving in and lowering her gaze – she followed him, hoping that he wasn't going back to his room. She had no intention of going there just to spend more time in his company. She was uncomfortable with not just his questions regarding her identity, but also with the fact she had to share a bed with him. It hadn't really quite hit her that she was engaged to the prince, and thus had to start behaving more…intimately. After all, she barely knew him! How was she supposed to just _share_ a bed with him, as if she had known him all her life?

Len felt, for once, very uncertain about himself. He knew he had promised his father that he would get to the bottom of this, but he was starting to wonder if he had bitten off more than he could chew. Besides the fact that Cinderella was as stubborn and obstinate as a pit bull, she was also a noticeably beautiful, dainty girl with eyes like green fire and lips like spun sugar. All these different things combined to form an intoxicating distraction, and he couldn't hold her gaze for long without wondering about her lips and her voice, and whether she would taste sweet when he finally kissed her. He was going to have to kiss her one of these days; she was his fiancée, after all. He wasn't looking forward to it. He didn't exactly want to kiss another girl, since he still grieved over his dead fiancée. Kissing another girl, marrying someone else, was like a slap across his beloved's face.

It was thus reluctantly that he admitted he was rather mesmerised by this Cinderella, and all this was with her being covered in filth. He dreaded to think about the effect she might have on him when she was clean and fragrant. He told her that he stayed because he was curious about what she would tell his father – that was true, but it was more than that. He just wanted to spend more time in the presence of his new bride, and understand what he had gotten himself into. She was attractive on a physical level, and of course he had an eye for beauty like hers, but he couldn't love her, not when his heart still belonged to another. He didn't want her to be miserable because of that, because he knew their marriage would just be a sham. She was clearly miserable enough while in the Hatsune manor, so he was being particularly careful and considerate of her feelings right now.

Len was normally not very kind, nor was he exceptionally caring. He was about as self-centred as the next person, and didn't think much of others unless they happened to be immediately connected to him in some way, like his adopted father or his personal butler. It was strange that he would care at all about this girl, who was just a charming stranger with a murky past he had met at the ball, but something about Dowager Duchess Hatsune's plea just…stuck with him. It was probably at that very moment, when the older woman pleaded with him to marry the girl and take her away, that he decided that he would ensure this stranger didn't have to suffer any longer. There was just something so heartfelt in the Duchess's eyes, eyes which were so green just like Cinderella's…he couldn't bring himself to not care at all about her welfare. So right at this moment, his thoughts were in turmoil.

He didn't know where he was going, actually. He was just heading away from this floor, but it suddenly occurred to him that he didn't _want_ to go back to his room yet and there was still this girl following him. No, not just a girl – his fiancée now, he had to remind himself. He might not have any real romantic feelings for her but he couldn't just forget she was his betrothed. Besides, it was good to have someone to marry…now maybe aristocratic girls would stop crowding around him whenever he made a public appearance. All the female attention he received was one major reason why he rarely stepped outside of the palace grounds, preferring the safety of the tall, imposing walls. Besides, she didn't actually like him, did she? She hadn't wanted to move into the palace when he proposed the idea during the ball, though of course there might be other reasons why she rejected him. But he was sure she did not hanker after him, so maybe marrying her wouldn't be so bad.

Cinderella disliked horses, he knew, so he couldn't just go to the stables, which were his favourite place to go to when he had nothing to do and just wanted to think about things. Unlike his surprise fiancée, he was particularly fond of horses. Maybe this indicated that the two of them would have a hard time getting along…or maybe he was overthinking things, like he had a tendency to do. He glanced back at her, and saw that she was still looking around, taking in the interior of the palace as she walked behind him. "What do you want to see?" he finally asked – better than her just following him as he wandered around aimlessly. He saw her raise an eyebrow at his question.

"A bath would be nice," she responded, sweeping her arm to indicate her present condition, the tone of her voice almost snarky. He nodded, letting her sarcasm pass for now, and decided to bring her to one of the guest rooms to bathe – he didn't have any fresh towels in his bathing chamber and he was sure that she wasn't comfortable enough with him to share his used ones. Luckily there were a few on the floor right below, so he quickly brought her to the first guest room he saw and ushered her inside. She drifted over to the bathing chamber, sticking her head in and withdrawing just as quickly. "There is no soap inside, nor are there any towels," she announced, sounding mildly surprised. He didn't blame her for being startled since even in a nobleman's house, every guest room was always ready for inhabitation, much less the king's royal palace. He let out a sigh.

It must be an oversight on a servant's part. The palace was big, so it was understandable, but it meant now he had to look for one of the servants and ask them to bring soap and towels up to the guest room. He couldn't possibly make Cinderella herself look for someone, she barely knew the palace. "Just go inside and wait," he told her, ducking out of the room. "Someone will be up here in a while to prepare the chamber for you. After you're done, I'm sure you can find your way to my room, so I do hope you were paying attention while we were walking up here," he grinned, quickly shutting the door before she could move towards him or protest in any other manner. It would be a little entertaining to see her wandering around the palace actually – nothing bad would happen to her, and he would save her from her misery before long. It would be some harmless petty revenge for refusing to tell him her name, for he couldn't at all bring himself to believe her explanation.

But he couldn't be that immature, he was the prince and she was his future bride. Plus doing all this might make her withdraw even more into that shell of secrecy she wrapped around herself, and that would just make his task harder. So he let the idea rest, deciding that he would just come back up with the servant who brought what she needed and wait in the guest room until she was done. Not that she knew he was joking about making her find her way back herself – he hoped that she was at least a little nervous about the aftermath of her bath. Though maybe she actually did memorise the route they had taken and she would surprise him on the way back. He was a little curious about her capabilities, and this would be a little test of sorts. How much could Cinderella remember?

Miku sat down in the tub, still fully clothed. She found herself staring at the marble wall opposite her, tracing the little grey swirls in the white all the way to the edge of the room – then her gaze would find another streak of greyish-black and she would be tracing the pattern all over again. She just didn't know what else she could do, and she was terribly bored. Reaching out, she ran her fingers against the edge of the bathtub, feeling the white ceramic smooth and cold against her skin. It was the first time she had seen a ceramic tub, actually. The ones in the bath chambers back in the mansion were all wooden, since only the royal family was rich enough to afford such luxuries. She bet their servants were willing to stand in the room and pass them hot water as well, but she wasn't expecting that much from her bath. Cold water would do, she was perfectly used to it, plus it was just so much more convenient since she wouldn't have to wait for the water to heat up outside.

She remembered having to lug pail after pail of hot water up to Lucinda's bath chamber in the past whenever she decided she wanted to clean herself. It was difficult labour, since she had to climb up the stairs lugging a small leaky, wooden pail and the water was usually extremely hot, so she would scald herself if she wasn't careful. Was every bath chamber in the palace as luxurious as this one? The royal family was much richer than she thought – she knew they were wealthy, since they were the rulers of the country after all, but she hadn't thought they would be _this_ wealthy, since from what she understood the civil war in the past had depleted quite a few resources. She wasn't interested enough to keep thinking about her old history lessons, so she let her thoughts wander.

The room was all cold hard edges and smooth lines. There was the tub, a low and shallow sort of bowl propped up on four legs, reminding her of a table. She wondered how servants cleared out the dirty water – with the wooden tub she just had to tip it over, since wood wasn't that heavy. She was quite sure it wasn't the same for this, it seemed a lot heavier. Maybe they scooped the water out or they just carefully tilted the tub and let the water flow out – she could see a small hole hidden discreetly in the corner of the room and guessed that was for the drainage system. Again, the royal family was probably one of the only few families with access to plumbing, along with some of the wealthier aristocrats. Her family home had plumbing, but that was in Cante. No one lived there now.

There was a vanity table near the door, made of marble just like the walls of the room. There was a mirror there, a long oval with polished glass and she wondered if the surface would steam up when someone bathed in hot water here. She had seen her reflection in the misty surface of a mirror before, and she remembered thinking that it looked so surreal, like she was there and at the same time, not quite there…she looked like a distorted version of herself, and she remembered thinking that it didn't seem real. She wasn't real, the mirror wasn't real, her situation wasn't real, and she was just floating, floating in a misty room where warm steam caressed her face and dropped her into a world of her own. And then she heard Lucinda yelling at her about draining her bathtub.

When would the prince be coming back? She really wanted to take a shower. After bathing for the ball for three nights, it felt a little strange to be dirty again. Those three nights at the ball, although she had only participated to further her agenda and escape from her prison, had made her feel as though she was part of society again. She was no longer the overthrown aristocrat who served the usurpers, she was a noble lady in her own right and she could command power and attention. It was nice to not have to be the maid for once. It was equally nice to see her stepsisters getting frustrated about the mysterious girl who captured the prince's attention and know it was her – that she, the stepsister they sneered at, could actually achieve so much and become unrecognisable in their eyes.

She heard a knock on the door, coming from outside the bedroom. Hastily she clambered up from the tub, secretly thankful that her servant attire was thin and stretchable, allowing her to move quickly – if she had been dressed in one of her ballroom dresses she had no doubt that it would take a while for her to get up at all. She brushed herself down and stood at attention just as someone came in, carrying a fluffy white towel, a nightdress and a bar of soap in a small pail. This person, who had green hair and whom Miku quickly recognised to be the servant girl she spoke to on the first night of the ball, smiled a little at the sight of her and bowed quickly. The girl was followed by the prince, who followed her a little way into the room and stopped the moment he noticed her.

Come to think of it, this servant girl looked a lot like the prince's personal butler. They were probably related. "This is Nakajima Gumi, Gumo's twin sister. She's the older one," the prince introduced. Miku smiled at her, and the girl did the same – she had a very bright smile, and Miku got the feeling she would like her – before she hurried into the bathing chamber, clearly helping Miku to get ready. Miku wanted to go in and do everything herself, since she was used to that and she was actually still a little uncomfortable about being served by others since she had been a maid for so many years. But she felt the prince's fingers latch around her upper arm and she stopped, twisting to stare at him. He looked right back at her with his blue eyes slightly narrowed, almost as if he was suspicious.

"After your bath, tell me why you were locked in the cellar," was all he finally said. She nodded – she knew she would eventually have to explain what she was doing there anyway. At least now she had the duration of her bath to think of an answer. He let go, and with that she walked into the bathing chamber. She hoped that he wouldn't be waiting for her when she came back out – she would rather find her own way around the palace than have to field questions when she still wasn't truly ready.


	13. Chapter 13

The warm water felt incredible against her skin. Steam wafted lightly up from the surface, bathing her in heat and moisture. Miku sank into the tub with a sigh, her eyes closing in pleasure. She could not remember the last time she had a hot bath – she felt like she could just stay in here forever.

The prince was waiting for her outside though, so she couldn't dawdle here. She pursed her lips, wondering about how to explain her confinement in the cellar. She couldn't just admit that she was a servant of the Hatsune family, that would raise a few eyebrows – but what else could she say? She couldn't just accuse her stepfamily of neglect and abuse either, since that would no doubt lead to an investigation and Miku didn't want the royal family finding out anything about her background.

Frowning, she reached out towards the small dishes of soap perching precariously on the edge of the tub. She pinched a bit of white soap away from the giant mass and slowly worked the soap into her long teal hair, enjoying the feeling of dirt and filth washing away from her scalp. Maybe she could tell the prince that she enjoyed being in the cellar, which was why she was there…no, this idea was just silly. His phrasing showed that he was aware she was being kept there against her will. Maybe she could say that this punishment was a longstanding tradition within her family. Since she had already made up that ridiculous excuse for why she couldn't reveal her name, then she might as well lie about her family background. She was already in too deep to get herself out of this situation.

She let her arms drop from her scalp into the water, causing a small splash. The bathwater rose up towards her neck and she flinched, tilting her head away from the warm liquid. Her hair was heavy and wet, lather dripping down the teal locks towards her bare shoulders. She curled up beneath the water, submerging herself all the way up to her ears. The bathwater was level with her nose, and for a while she just blew bubbles out into the water, keeping her head slightly tilted so she could continue to breathe. Suddenly, she missed her childhood. She missed her mother, her father…

But she was here for them, wasn't she? She escaped from her personal hell and she would work towards becoming completely free. Once she convinced the prince to allow her to wander instead of staying in the palace, she would get her fill of worldly experiences – she would travel everywhere and hear new stories, see new people. When she was satisfied, she would fight for the rights to her land. Closing her eyes, she dipped her head downwards and splashed water onto her hair, washing away the lather. Her hair floated around her in the bath, a net of teal that seemed to trap her in the long locks. Then she broke out from the water and her hair hung limply before her, a soaked curtain.

Smoothing her hair away from her eyes, she went on to clean the rest of her, idly massaging soap into her skin. The water was starting to turn a little grey, and that disgusted her – she decided to hurry up with her bath and get out as soon as all the grime was washed away. Gumi had brought in a nightdress when she came to prepare the bath, and Miku was actually rather excited about putting on the silky white camisole. It was unlike anything she had ever worn while she was a servant for her stepfamily, and it would be nice to be able to wear good material again. Gumi actually had wanted to stay here and help Miku with her bath, but Miku asked her to just leave her to her own devices.

The water made quiet rippling sounds as she moved, washing her limbs and leaving them fresh and clean. She felt like she was washing away the dirty secrets of her past and she hoped that when the filthy grey bathwater was poured down the drain, her past would be flushed away with it.

* * *

Len was pacing in the bedroom, waiting impatiently for his fiancée to leave the bathing chamber. She was taking a very long time to get ready. Was it a female thing, to take so long to bathe? He remembered that his dead fiancée had needed a long time to prepare before leaving her house as well…shaking his head, he pushed the memory aside. Now was not the time to be thinking of her, although he wished he could set aside some time to properly mourn her. It wasn't just her demise that he regretted – he had lost an entire future, a path which had once been so concrete for him. When she died, she had taken his future away with her as well. For months, he did not know what else he could do with his life besides drink and sulk. But now, he had found another purpose.

His fingers were tapping against the wooden desk in the guestroom. He didn't know how long Cinderella had spent in the bathing chamber, but it was long enough to make him antsy. Sighing in boredom, he spun around and made his way to the bed, lying flat on his back and gazing up at the ceiling. The ceiling was made of the same dark, panelled wood as the walls of the room, and he found himself staring at a little darker spot in the upper right corner of the ceiling. It was odd to see a blemish of any sort in the palace, so he focused on it and started wondering if there were any flaws in the other rooms as well. Clearly, the palace wasn't as perfect as what it was claimed to be…

The door to the bathing chamber opened then, some steam escaping into the guestroom. He sat up, looking towards the bathing chamber, and saw his fiancée dressed in a skimpy white nightdress, the thin straps sliding down her bare shoulders. Her teal hair was loose and damp, hanging all the way to her waist, and she was clutching her towel to her chest, her cheeks flushed slightly pink – from the hot water or from possible embarrassment, he couldn't tell. "Did you enjoy your bath?" he asked, gaze flitting from feature to feature. She was clean now, and she was absolutely stunning.

"I did, thank you," she answered, her fingers tightening noticeably around the towel. "But if it's possible I'd like to change out of this nightdress…" her other hand reached up to fist the white cotton towel as well. "Is Gumi around?" she asked, her green gaze roaming all over the room as if she thought the servant girl was hiding here somewhere. "I'd really like her to get me something else to wear, this isn't…this isn't something that suits me very well," her voice became very faint.

He frowned. The clothes in the palace were all made of the finest silk and the highest quality materials. There couldn't possibly be anything wrong with what she was wearing. "What's wrong with it? It looks perfectly fine to me," the nightdress was creamy white with a soft glimmer to the material and the length was decent enough, reaching past her knees. There were pearls stitched into the delicate straps. Whatever her problem was, it couldn't be the material or quality of the dress.

"I can't tell you," she said quickly, backing away slightly as he approached her, still frowning. "I really need to let Gumi know that…what are you looking at?" her voice went slightly higher as she noticed him staring intently at the towel she was holding. "Hey, don't –!" before she could finish what she wanted to say, he reached out and snatched the towel away from her, determined to find out what the problem was. She hastily covered her chest with her hands, but he had already seen the low-cut, plunging neckline with the lace trimming – and he did not fail to see the cleavage that was exposed as a result of the dress's design. "Stop looking at me!" she cried out when he continued to stare.

"I think you should continue to wear this, there's nothing wrong with the dress," he informed her, trying his best to hide his glee. She glared at him angrily, her lips pressed together into a thin line. When it seemed evident that he wasn't going to return her the towel anytime soon, she turned and stood with her back facing him so that he couldn't look at her chest. Her long teal hair hung wet and straight behind her, hiding her slender body from view. With a faint smirk on his face, he dropped the towel onto the bed and reached out, placing a hand on her exposed shoulder. He felt her stiffen.

He tugged, and though she tried to resist he managed to force her to turn back. She was struggling to break free from his grip while still holding her hands over her chest, but she didn't have the strength to get away. His smirk widened. "The more you struggle, the lower your dress goes," he pointed out. Abruptly she stilled, her breaths quick and panicky. Her green eyes met his, and this time her expression was almost pleading rather than angry. For a moment, he faltered – he had never seen Cinderella showing any sign of weakness before. But he didn't want to just let her off so easily either, not when he was having so much fun at her expense. Who would have thought that she was so shy about her body? "Does it really matter? We're engaged to be married anyway. I'm going to see a _lot_ more than just that in the future, you know," his voice was almost taunting.

Her face flushed red. "I don't even want you to know my name, let alone see me like this!" she raised her voice a little, which surprised him enough to make his grip loosen. She dared to shout at him? She took advantage of this to break free from his grasp, her green eyes filled once more with irritation. The previous vulnerability he had seen was nowhere in sight. "If I don't get a change of clothes I will not leave this room," she threatened, hastily yanking the towel away from the bed and covering herself with it once more. He stared at her, trying to figure out if she was being serious.

"I can just carry you out, you know. And I'm sure you'd agree when I say that is far more undignified than just walking out in your nightdress," he raised an eyebrow, leaning against the bedpost and folding his arms across his chest. She just continued to glare at him wordlessly, neither one of them willing to give in to the other party. It was rather amusing, watching her get so worked up about her modesty. He had seen quite a few other girls flaunting their cleavage and legs when they were around him, hoping that maybe the glimpses of skin would interest him enough to make him spend some time with them. Seeing someone so persistent about maintaining her image was actually very refreshing.

She caved in first. "Could you _please_ just give me something else to wear?" she asked, voice trembling slightly. "I'm not comfortable walking around in such a revealing camisole," she pouted, fluttering her eyelashes at him. He rolled his eyes at this, perfectly aware that she was trying to manipulate him into doing what she wanted, but he had gotten tired of playing around with her anyway and he decided to help her with what she wanted. Walking out of the room, he saw that there was no one in the corridor and he let out a sigh of frustration. Now he actually had to look around for someone again. He made a mental note to ask his father to install bells in every single room, even the guest rooms. It was ridiculous to expect him to walk around all day looking for one of the palace servants.

Thankfully, when he rounded the corner he saw one of the servants cleaning the windows, so he told her to stop with her duties for now and to find another set of women's clothing, preferably something modest, and then bring it back to the guestroom. The girl nodded and went off to…where did they even get the clothes from? Len didn't know, but he trusted that she would be back with his request. He went back to the chamber Cinderella was in, suddenly recalling that he had to find out why she was locked in the cellar. It had slipped his mind entirely in the midst of all this commotion.

Cinderella was still holding the towel to her chest when he got back into the room. It was honestly starting to annoy him, but he resisted the urge to rip it away from her again. She turned around to stare at him when he closed the door, and he took the moment to focus on her after her bath. She looked clean and fresh and that just made her even more stunning than she already was. Her skin was extremely fair and blemish free, and she practically glowed against the soft white nightdress. She looked perfectly fine in the camisole, at least to him. The fabric of the nightdress was smooth and slightly clingy, which just emphasised the slenderness of her frame. He tore his eyes away from her face, not wanting to stare at her for too long in case he came across as rude.

"Where's my change of clothes?" she asked stiffly, her voice drawing his attention back to her. He walked over to sit next to her and she fidgeted, shifting subtly away from him. It was strange to see how she was so uncomfortable around him. She had wanted to marry someone of high standing, had she not? So why was she behaving so oddly around him now? Maybe she personally hadn't wanted to marry someone, maybe her mother or aunt had forced her into this…no, he shouldn't be thinking so much about this now. He didn't even know if Cinderella really had a mother who demanded that she marry a nobleman. If she actually was Hatsune Miku, then she wouldn't even have a mother.

"I sent one of the servants off to get another set of clothes for you. She'll be back shortly," she nodded at this, looking back down at the towel she was gripping. He didn't imagine that it was comfortable, holding the damp material so close to her chest. The wetness surely had to be leaking through the material of her nightdress. "Why don't you just put the towel down? I promise I won't look," he sighed, meeting her gaze. She shook her head vehemently, and he just sighed again. "Fine, do whatever you want. Forget about your clothes for now," he started to drum his fingers against the white bedsheet, wondering how he ought to ask her about her confinement in the cellar. Should he just go straight into it or should he try to slowly nudge the conversation in that direction?

"You want to know about the cellar, right? Why I was locked in there," she spoke up clearly, looking more relaxed now that they weren't talking about her nightdress. He glanced at her, surprised, and she just smiled knowingly at him. For some reason, that secretive little smile annoyed him. "Well, my aunt has two daughters…my cousins, I think you saw them. Anastasia and Lucinda," he didn't miss the way her lip curled at those names, making her look almost disdainful. "You might have seen them both at the ball, and all the nobles are talking about how Lord Shion annulled his engagement to my cousin, Anastasia. In case you were not aware…I do not get along well with my two cousins."

He thought back to how the younger sister had dared to lie to him about Cinderella's presence in the household, and how the older one seemed troubled when he said he was looking for a girl with teal hair. This part certainly seemed believable. He was sure that there was more to this story as well, more than what she was revealing to him. "Surely that alone is not enough to lock you in the cellar. You are a noble lady, just like they are now," he tilted his head. "How could they treat their cousin so terribly? And what of the Dowager Duchess Hatsune, doesn't she have any control over them?"

Cinderella hesitated. He saw uncertainty flash though her eyes – for only a few seconds, but it was long enough for him to notice. She bit her lip before opening her mouth to answer. "My aunt, the Duchess, has little control over the household. Her health is fragile, so she finds it difficult to keep my cousins in check. They do many things in the manor," she paused, meeting his gaze directly, "and they do not like me, so they lock me in the cellar when they have the opportunity to do so."

"Then we should do something to remedy the situation," he narrowed his eyes, outraged by the lack of respect he was observing here. No child should ever usurp their parents' authority – this simply contradicted everything a noble child learnt while growing up. Noble children were taught to always respect their parents above all. Even he adhered to that, because this was something which had been drummed into him from a young age and it was an unspoken law of sorts among the nobility. Only those who were not brought up the same way would ever think of doing something different. "I will ask my father to send some men down to investigate. This is absolutely ridiculous behaviour, he will not condone it –" before he could go on, Cinderella raised a hand and shook her head, making him stop mid-rant.

"Don't trouble yourself or the king. My aunt married into the Hatsune family," Cinderella sounded almost dismissive. "No matter what Anastasia and Lucinda do, they will never be able to inherit the Hatsune land and title, so there's no cause for concern there. When my aunt dies, the Hatsune legacy will die along with her," she still sounded incredibly impassive, and that made him question whether she was really the long-lost Hatsune daughter or not. If she was Hatsune Miku, then why didn't the loss of her family heritage seem to affect her at all? She was being remarkably blasé about the whole thing…or maybe she was just a very good actress. He was determined to figure out which was the truth.

"How did you know about the inheritance law?" he questioned, wondering how she would wriggle her way out of this one. She had been able to field all his questions so far – not always successfully, but she never did expose her cover if she was, indeed, hiding her identity. Cinderella simply blinked innocently at him and smiled, and for some reason that made him feel just a little uneasy.

"Veracent is not very different from Ossyria, you know," she chimed. "I learnt a little about the Ossyria peerage system while I was growing up in Veracent. My mother thought it would be appropriate for me to learn more about this place before I came here to visit my aunt, so I know about the inheritance and how it works. Of course, I would have to know if I wish to marry a noble from this land, isn't it?" her smile widened. The answer made complete sense and he pressed his lips together, frustrated. He would have loved to find a loophole in her answer but how could he when he barely knew anything about neighbouring Veracent, and thus couldn't separate fact from fiction? He decided that he would start reading up on Veracent and its customs as soon as he possibly could.

"Well, you're not wrong…" he muttered in defeat, and he was sure he saw the glow of triumph in her green eyes for just a moment before she blinked and the look disappeared. "But back to the matter at hand. Even if your cousins are unable to inherit the Hatsune family legacy from their mother, it's just not proper for them to be assuming the reins in the household. She is the elder. Only peasants would not uphold the tradition of respecting their elders," his tone was flat. She looked disturbed by this but she didn't say anything, allowing him to continue. "I still think that it's appropriate for us to send men down to the Hatsune manor. Your cousins need to be kept in check."

"No, don't waste the manpower. My aunt has never been power-hungry anyway – I don't think she minds letting my cousins do what they want," she said hurriedly, her fingers tightening around the cloth of the towel. "Even if it means locking me in the cellar. I am used to their behaviour, and I don't wish to cause any fuss," though her tone was even and respectful, there was a defiant stubbornness in her gaze and he knew that she wasn't going to budge from her viewpoint. Though Len was curious about why she was so adamant about leaving the Hatsune family alone – surely this was cause for suspicion – he knew he wouldn't be able to persuade her now, and he didn't want this to blow up into a pointless argument with her, so he nodded and pretended to agree with what she said.

Cinderella looked relieved. "Now that I told you why I was locked in the cellar, please promise me that you won't send men to the manor and lock my cousins away, or something equally drastic. My cousins no longer have anything to do with my life and my aunt appears to be perfectly fine with the current arrangement…at least, she has never complained about being treated poorly before. I do not wish to have any more involvement with Anastasia and Lucinda, so please don't look for any trouble. Would you promise me that, as my fiancé?" her eyes were wide. He gritted his teeth. She was pretty good at emotionally manipulating people – too bad that he was used to these tricks, too.

Before he had to open his mouth and lie about agreeing though, there was a knock on the door and the servant girl he spoke to earlier came in, carrying another set of clothes just like he requested. She quickly placed the clothes on the bed next to him and left the room after bowing respectfully to the both of them. Cinderella made a small noise of pleasure and lunged for the clothes, dropping the towel in the process – he was granted another quick glimpse of smooth, milky skin and he noticed the pleasant curve of her breasts underneath the thin camisole – and then she hurried off to the bathing chamber, presumably to change out of her current nightdress. The door slammed shut behind her.

Well, the arrival of the servant girl was timely. At least he didn't have to lie to Cinderella about not investigating her home. Her reaction towards the whole issue raised a few eyebrows. She seemed set on keeping him away from the mansion and her cousins both. She was most likely hiding something from him…and Len had little doubt that it was something to do with her true identity. However, sending a few men down to the manor would no doubt catch her attention. If he wanted to investigate, then he would most probably have to go there himself. He decided to find a day where he was free to go and visit the Hatsune family. He would have to come up with an excuse for his disappearance as well, but that could come later. So when should he visit the manor?

The door to the bathing chamber opened again and Cinderella slipped out, this time dressed in another white, high-necked cotton dress that covered her arms and legs entirely. She had changed remarkably quickly, and she looked satisfied with her current outfit. This nightdress covered her very well – a little too well, much to his disappointment. "Don't you find that hot?" he asked, waving a hand at her outfit. "It also looks far too cumbersome to move around in. Plus, it's only the afternoon now. We still have plenty of time before we have to wind down to sleep," he pointed out. She simply shifted her hair so that it draped over one shoulder and stared blankly at him. He couldn't tell what she was thinking, but he guessed that she was ignoring everything he just said.

If she wanted to make her life difficult, then so be it. Len rose from the bed, walking towards the door of the guestroom. Cinderella followed him, her long nightdress dragging a little over the floor – it was just slightly too long for her petite build – and it reminded him of a child, playing dress up in her mother's clothes. "Since you don't really know your way around here at the moment, I'll give you a real, proper tour of the palace then," he decided, looking up and down the corridor and trying to figure out where to go first. "How about the kitchens? It's at the lowest floor here and it's near the servants' quarters as well. We can work our way up through the palace," he said thoughtfully.

Cinderella nodded wordlessly and he headed towards the stairs, prepared to go all the way down to the basement of the palace. She had a little bit of difficulty walking down the stairs due to the train of her nightdress, but he waited for her at the bottom of the staircase and held her hand if she needed the extra help, so the delay was tolerable. He was waiting for her to trip over her own feet, but she seemed determined to move as gracefully as possible…not that she wasn't graceful. He could remember the way she had danced with him, and he knew that her every movement was smooth and fluid. Was there anything flawed about her? Besides her stubbornness and obstinacy, of course. If he wasn't just trying to investigate her secretive past, he might have found her attractive.

They finally made their way to the basement of the palace. The kitchens were full of activity, as always. Here, the servants sat around and gossiped, and there was always someone busy cooking something so the kitchen always smelled of good food. When he showed up in the servant with his fiancée drifting behind him, all chatter in the kitchen stopped and, for a while, all he could hear was the bubbling of soup in the pot and the sizzle of frying meat in the pan. "I'm bringing my fiancée on a tour of the palace," he spoke to the silent kitchen, feeling the servants' gazes all trained upon him. "Continue with whatever you were doing," he added when no one moved. His words seemed to break some sort of spell and the kitchen was full of lively chatter once more. He relaxed a little.

Gumi was talking to her twin brother at the table in the middle of the kitchen. Len made his way over to them, Cinderella still following him like a lost puppy. "The door to the servants' quarters is over there," he pointed out to his betrothed. The door was situated right next to the giant stone fireplace – the flames of the fire kept the kitchen warm. Here was the best place to be when it was the dead of winter and everything was freezing over. Cinderella nodded, and Len turned towards the green haired twins, who had stopped talking when he approached them. "Gumi, she tells me that the dress you brought for her was…inappropriate," he mentioned when he noticed Gumi looking at Cinderella in obvious bafflement. He saw Cinderella's cheeks turning pink as he talked about her.

"Oh? I thought it would flatter you," Gumi looked disappointed. "What's the problem with the dress?" she addressed Cinderella directly. Cinderella looked flustered at the question, turning towards him as though seeking his help. He blinked innocently at her – he wasn't going to help her with this, he hadn't wanted her to change out of the dress to begin with. Cinderella turned back to face Gumi, who was still looking at her questioningly. Meanwhile, Len noticed his butler outright staring at his fiancée, an expression of mild surprise on his face, and he recalled that the first time Gumo had ever seen Cinderella was when she was covered in filth. This had to be quite a difference for him.

"It was…very revealing," Cinderella explained, her cheeks still slightly pink. "Especially at the front…" Gumi's eyes lit up in sudden understanding, and the green haired servant's lips parted to form a small 'oh' of surprise. Meanwhile Gumo was still ogling his fiancée, and Len was really starting to feel slightly irritated. Cinderella might not be someone he loved or even wanted to marry, but she was still his betrothed and that meant he didn't appreciate other men staring at her for too long.

"I didn't know that would be a problem," Gumi sounded apologetic. "I was looking for something comfortable for you to wear, and I assumed that since you are already engaged to our prince, then surely it wouldn't matter even if he saw…" Cinderella's face reddened, much to his amusement. She was calm and collected when she answered his questions about her identity and her background, but she was so easily flustered when it came to her modesty. It gave him a sudden idea about how to lower her guard. If she was so easily affected by issues regarding intimacy and modesty, then if he was intimate enough with her surely she would let something slip…and she was pretty too, so it wouldn't be any big sacrifice for him to pretend like he was interested in her in a physical way.

Or maybe he wouldn't even need to pretend. His gaze flitted across her body, from her blushing cheeks to the long teal hair that flowed down her back, her slim frame and her large green eyes, framed by those long, thick eyelashes. No, he wouldn't have to pretend that he was interested. "I don't feel comfortable about baring myself like that!" she squeaked, folding her arms across her chest. Gumi just giggled at this, causing Cinderella to look even more flustered. "Anyway I prefer modest clothes such as this nightdress, so…so please don't give me anything like that camisole in the future, I really don't think it's appropriate for me," she continued, averting her gaze.

"All right, Gumi understands your request, she won't give you any _inappropriate_ clothes to wear again," Len interjected smoothly, casually wrapping an arm around Cinderella's waist. She jerked at the sudden contact, shooting him a questioning look – she tried to edge away from his grip, but he tightened his arm around her and trapped her there. She stopped trying to move away. "Let's visit other parts of the palace, all right? Now you know where to go when you want a light snack or if you're looking for any of the palace help. We should go see other areas before dinner," he turned away, pulling Cinderella along with him. She went peacefully, though there was tension in her body and he could feel how prepared she was to break free and run away at the earliest opportunity.

It was good to see how tense she was at physical contact. If simply draping an arm across her waist could cause her to become so nervous, then how would she react if he did more, if he went further? How would she react if he caressed her face, or if he kissed her, or if…? Suddenly he was the one with the reddening cheeks and Cinderella was shooting him an inquisitive look, clearly wondering why he was blushing. He coughed and turned away from her, telling himself not to think about this so soon. Right now, he just had to show her around the palace so that they could pass the time.

Tonight, he would see how far he could push her. His arm was still wrapped loosely around her as he guided her back to the staircase, leading her up to the ground level. Maybe tonight he would be able to squeeze more information about her, especially if he spoke to her and touched her when she was feeling drowsy. Hopefully the mystery surrounding her wouldn't take too long to solve.


	14. Chapter 14

The prince's tour was pretty brief compared to the secret ones he gave her at the ball. It seemed like he was almost in a hurry, but when she asked him if he had matters to attend to after this, he shook his head. She frowned. Well, he seemed to be pretty impatient for someone with lots of free time.

The palace had five floors in total if you counted the basement as one floor. She thought she knew enough from the tour to at least find her way back to the prince's room by herself, if she had to. His room was on the second floor of the palace, one floor below the throne room, and to get to it she had to take the second door to the left and then just follow it all the way until she came to another set of doors, where this time she would choose the right. Then the next corridor would lead to the prince's room. It wasn't that difficult now that she knew what she was doing. Earlier, every single turn had confused her. "There's nothing much to see, actually," the prince sounded bored. "It's a nice palace, amazing to show off when we have foreign officials visiting, but otherwise…"

His words trailed off, and she was left wondering what he had wanted to say. His sentence sounded incomplete. Instead of going on though, the prince just coughed and turned to face her. They were standing at the palace grounds now, ending their tour at the beautiful rose gardens. It was beautiful in both day and night, but at night there was an ethereal quality to the gardens, as though they didn't quite exist in the mortal realm. "Besides the stables, the gardens are my favourite place to be in," he swept his arm out, indicating the whole sprawling area. "It's just lovely to look at, and the perfume of the roses is…heady. If you ever need to look for me, then you know where to find me now," he gave her a meaningful look. She nodded, though secretly she wondered if there would ever be an occasion where she would actually look for him of her own accord. It seemed very unlikely.

"I just want to know something," she began, picking at the long sleeve of her nightdress. The cuffed sleeves were gathered at her wrist, and they were itching her skin a little. "Am I allowed to leave the palace grounds? Can I…travel across the world, if I wish to? Or must we be married first?" she tried to keep her tone upbeat, not wanting him to suspect that she had any hidden agendas. She was quite sure that the prince married her for something besides attraction, but she wouldn't let him know that she had secrets to hide as well. The prince frowned, obviously unnerved by the question.

"Why would you want to leave? You're a lady. It's not in your place to travel around the world," he answered, folding his arms across his chest. She had already expected that answer, so she didn't feel _too_ disappointed. Instead, she would devote her energies into thinking about an alternative way to escape the palace. If she couldn't do so with the blessing of her fiancé, then she would leave on her own terms. "I mean, if you really want to, I suppose you can accompany me if I visit royals from the other countries we have arrangements with, but on your own…then most certainly not, even after we're married," he continued. She forced a smile upon her face, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Of course, I understand that. I'll stay here and be a good, dutiful wife," maybe some sarcasm had leaked out into her tone, because he straightened up and regarded her suspiciously. She just smiled all the more and eventually, he relaxed, though he kept that look of doubt on his face. She hoped that he didn't doubt so much that he would start getting people to watch her. That would make her life, and her possible plans to leave the palace, just so much harder. All this secrecy was such a pain.

But of course, at least she was away from her stepsisters now. She may be confined to the palace instead, forced to act as the prince's sweet betrothed, but thankfully she was no longer under their thumb and if she really managed to slip away from the royal palace she would have a lot more money to take with her. At least, she assumed she would. The prince was bound to give her jewellery or fine clothes that she could pawn away, right? She'd think about it when she finally reached that point.

"When do you want to get married?" the prince finally said, breaking the silence that lay between them. There was a cool breeze blowing, and the leaves of the rose garden rustled around them. It sounded like the hushed whispers of hundreds of people, talking all at once. "I'm perfectly fine with any date. We're engaged now, and the formal announcement will be made tomorrow. Though of course most of the aristocracts are already aware, since I proposed to you in front of so many people," he met her gaze, his lips twitching. She did not see what he found so funny. "You should have seen your face at that moment," he continued, that look of amusement never letting up. "When Lord Shion asked you to consider him…I don't want to know what you would have made up if I didn't come forward then. Of course, I already intended to propose, but it would have been entertaining to see you flounder," Miku resisted the urge to glare at him. He had definitely been nicer during the ball.

"I just did not want to be engaged to a man who was once betrothed to my cousin. As you well know, we have no love lost between the two of us, and I would not want to make the situation any worse," she said as politely as she could manage. "If it had been any other nobleman, I might have accepted the proposal, and you would not have your fiancée now," she smiled, feeling a little smug about this argument. The prince didn't seem impressed – he just looked her up and down, one eyebrow raised.

"I might believe that if you had not told me that you were looking for a nobleman who seemed to strongly resemble myself," he retorted. She inhaled, forgetting that she had said that. Maybe she shouldn't have told him that – she now had nothing to say if he ever teased her about wanting to marry him. After all, she was the one who had coquettishly dropped hints about her wish throughout all three nights. She could only blame herself for her current situation. "Not that you seem particularly enthusiastic now that I really asked for your hand in marriage," he observed. "It makes me wonder if you were looking for something besides a husband. Are you, Cinderella?" he asked, his face perfectly neutral.

She froze though. A firm 'no' lay on the very tip of her tongue, but he was staring intently at her and his piercing blue eyes made her feel trapped. When she finally managed to push the word out, it sounded much weaker than she had intended. The prince narrowed his eyes. "Most certainly. Well, I believe you – at least you are not like the power-hungry ladies who try to get into my good books. In fact, I might even think you're trying to do the opposite," he gave her a more humorous grin now, and she exhaled in relief, glad that he wasn't going to probe into her possible hidden intentions.

"I'm glad that you trust me, then," she glanced around the rose garden, not wanting to look into his eyes. Her gaze fell upon a rose bush near the ornate arch that led into the gardens. There were barely any roses there, most of them still tight buds, some of the petals just barely beginning to unfurl. "That one looks young," she gestured at that rose bush, trying to change the topic. The prince looked around to see what she was referring to, then turned back to her with his eyes narrowed.

"Yes, it is. The bush itself was planted a mere month ago. It will be another three weeks, more or less, before the flowers bloom," he explained. The prince seemed remarkably well-versed with the life cycle of a rose, to her surprise. "That bush was planted because one of the horses in the stables went berserk and stormed through the garden a few weeks back. If you see any plants that look out of place because they are new where the others are not, then the previous roses had probably been destroyed by the stallion…" he walked towards the new rose bush, crouching down and peering at it.

She followed, though she did not stand very close to him, choosing to keep a safe and respectable distance between them both. She decided that until the king formally made the announcement to the public that she was his new fiancée, there was no need for her to pretend that she was, in any way, in love with the prince. "The damage done was not little. It would have broken your heart to see the garden in the state the horse left it in…but I'm glad it was fixed in time for the ball. Otherwise I wouldn't have dared to show you this place, though it is undeniably one of the more gorgeous sights in the palace," he rose from the ground, turning around and giving her a small smile.

She didn't know how to react when he talked to her like that, so she kept quiet. He waited for a while, but when she still didn't say anything he continued talking. "Looks like it might be time for afternoon tea," he observed, glancing up at the sky. The sun wasn't as glaringly bright as it was two hours ago, but it was still pretty hot outside. She was somewhat regretting her decision to wear this long nightdress, especially since her arms were starting to itch more than ever – the thick material seemed to be partially or wholly made from wool, and that didn't do well with her sensitive skin. But this was a hundred times better than walking around in that skimpy little nightdress. The dress she wore for the second night of the ball had already made her self-conscious, and the neckline of the nightdress she was first given was even lower than that. She would not wear it around the prince.

"Should we go back inside the palace then?" she asked, glancing up at the sky too. The rose gardens were lovely, but it would also be nice to get some shade. She wasn't swelteringly hot, but it was starting to get just a little bit uncomfortable. To her relief, the prince nodded, and they began to head back towards the palace. Come to think of it, she was starting to feel hungry too. The timing couldn't be any better. The afternoon tea in the palace had to be good – it was for royalty, after all.

"Gumi will probably be waiting for us in the dining hall. If I know her – and I _do_ know her – she'll already have our afternoon tea prepared for us. I hope the kitchen made what I like," the last part was muttered, but she heard him anyway. She wondered what sweets he liked to eat. He didn't seem like the kind of person who liked sugary treats or desserts, but then again she might be wrong.

He led the way to the dining hall, which she remembered was near the ballroom but she couldn't recall exactly where it was. It was going to take a while before she could navigate this place entirely by herself. Maybe it would be better if she learnt how to find her way around before she set off on her own. It would be terrible if she opened one door, expecting the exit, only to find herself in the prince's private study – he apparently did have a study separate from his bedroom on the first floor, and it was located near the staircase as well. Why couldn't there be a map of the palace, just to make her life easier? How did new servants manage to find their way around this giant building?

"Your Highnesses," Gumi, who was in the dining hall just as the prince had predicted, bowed to them the moment they stepped into the room. Miku jumped at the title, but the servant had obviously addressed both of them…the knowledge that she was engaged to the prince and was now part of the royal family came crashing down upon her. She would no longer be addressed as just Hatsune Miku or Duchess Hatsune or even Lady Hatsune. She would be Her Royal or Serene Highness from now on. She hesitated, unsure of how she felt about this development. It seemed so strange.

The prince turned when he noticed that she was no longer following him. "What are you stopping for?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow. She shook herself out of her trance and moved through the dining hall, following him all the way to the very front of the long, rectangular table. He did not sit at the head, instead sitting on the chair beside it. She sat opposite him. Two servants had pulled the chairs out for them to sit, and she felt somewhat…out-of-place here. Sure, if she had been raised with the upbringing of a noblewoman then she would be used to this, but she hadn't grown up with such a privilege. She was used to doing things for herself. Being pampered just…seemed very odd.

Obviously, the prince didn't have the same qualms as her. He had probably been brought up this way all his life, since he attended Easton College before he was adopted by the king. And only the wealthiest families went to the prestigious school for young noblemen. If she dug around enough, she could probably find out which family he came from before becoming the prince – the list of families who sent their children to Easton was fairly limited, with there being only a hundred students in each cohort, bringing the total number of students at any given time up to four hundred at most – but she didn't feel the need to devote so much time to research just to satisfy her curiosity.

Then two more servants came through the double doors of the dining hall, each bearing a covered silver platter. They silently glided over to her and the prince and set the platters down before them. Their napkins and cutlery had already been laid out before them on the table. The servants then lifted the covers, revealing an exquisite apple tart for her and a slice of pie for Prince Romeo. She squinted at his dessert – it was topped with light, fluffy whipped cream, but from what she could make out of it the dessert seemed to be banana pie. The prince beamed. "Oh, this is excellent. The pastry chef managed to find bananas in the market then, I assume?" the prince took up his fork as he spoke.

"It was difficult, Your Highness," if she wasn't mistaken Gumi almost seemed to be glaring at the prince. "You know that this fruit you enjoy so much is hard to obtain. We had to pay a hefty price for the last bunch in the market today. After all, there are only three plantations growing bananas in the whole of Ossyria, and you just ate the very last of the fruit for this season," Gumi's frown deepened.

The prince looked up from his snack. "You've said this to me about a hundred times," he said evenly, "and you are still going to hear the same answer. I love this fruit and I shall have it no matter how hard it is to get. Of course, I know that the next time I can have this will be a few months from now since the plantations must wait for the fruit to ripen, so I'll not demand for it until then. I'm very reasonable, as you well know," he went back to eating his pie, closing his eyes in bliss. Gumi let out an irritated sigh and walked away from the prince, the other servants scurrying out behind her.

Miku felt slightly amused by this exchange. It seemed as though Gumi did not defer as much to the royals as a typical servant would. How strange, that she was allowed to show any sign of displeasure at all with the prince. "You enjoy bananas?" she asked, delicately cutting through her apple tart with the side of her fork. The pastry was crumbly at the edges and soft in the centre, with a caramelised apple slice on top. It looked excellent, and as she tasted it, she sighed happily. It was delicious too.

"Yes, they're amazing. Soft and sweet, but not overly so," the prince answered, not taking his eyes off his banana pie for a second. "Too bad that they're not common in Ossyria, since they grow better in the tropics. I had my first taste of them only last year, when I accompanied my father overseas to Behayat. They have bananas everywhere. I swear, for a week I was in paradise," he finished off the last of his pie. Meanwhile, Miku was still only halfway through her tart. He sighed despondently, leaning back in his chair. "That was barely enough to satisfy me, but I have no choice for now. Maybe my father will organise another trip to the tropics someday," he muttered.

Behayat…she had heard of the place, but she definitely had never been there before. The furthest she had travelled was between states in Ossyria. She wanted to go and see Behayat too, and all the other different countries and places which she knew existed but never had a chance to visit. But given what the prince said earlier, she guessed that he wouldn't allow her to go to such places with him. It was stupid really, that women were expected to stay behind and look after the home while the men went gallivanting off to explore unknown places, but it was tradition and of course, no one would allow her to break tradition. Being the prince's fiancée didn't seem to grant any special privilege in that regard. In fact, it might be worse, given how high-profile her life would be from now on.

"Maybe you could bring me along," she said half-heartedly, suggesting it anyway. The prince looked up from his now empty plate, a strange look on his face – she wouldn't call it disapproving exactly, but it was strange. She didn't know how to describe it. Silently, he pushed his plate away from him.

"No," the single word was uttered so softly that she almost missed it. "You have to stay here. I can't let you leave the country, Cinderella," he pressed his fingertips together, forming a steeple and tucking them beneath his chin. All of a sudden, he looked remarkably serious. For most of the day he had been flippant, he had been sarcastic, he had teased her and found plenty of entertainment at her expense, but this was the first time he seemed outright… _serious_. She felt a shiver run down her spine. He looked so solemn, and she wasn't used to that. He just never seemed to take anything seriously, and seeing this change – seeing him really act like a _prince_ just really threw her off.

"Why not?" she demanded, momentarily forgetting to behave like the meek, quiet lady she was expected to be. "I want to see the world too. I want to see new people and try new things. Why is it that you're the one who can go, while I cannot? Is it just because I am female?" she placed her hand against her chest, splaying her fingers out against the nightdress. She met his blue gaze directly.

"No, it's not because you're female," he answered, much to her surprise. For a second, just a single second, she faltered. "There are other reasons why I can't…just let you leave the country. It's not even because you're a foreigner," he added, noticing the look on her face. "It's not because of you, Cinderella. I have my reasons. Let's just say that once, someone I cared for left the country, and they never came back," his expression was still neutral, but she could feel her voice shrivelling up inside her chest. What was she supposed to say in response to that? She could think of no comeback.

Did he really care for her, or was he just making things up so that she would stop asking questions? Either way, she didn't want to press for more now. Perhaps next time, but she didn't think it would be a good idea to keep asking about something that was clearly a sensitive issue, so she ducked her head and continued to eat her tart. He waited silently for her to finish, and whenever she dared to look up at him, she saw a distant expression on his face, like he was remembering something.

His gaze was fixed on the wall opposite her, and he only looked back at her when she finished the tart and used the napkin to wipe off any crumbs that might have stayed on her mouth. "Just leave it there," he said absentmindedly when she tried to fold the napkin back into the shape it originally was. "Someone will come and clear it up later. Meanwhile, I think I'm going to take a nap in my room," he rose from his chair, his gaze suddenly focusing upon her. "You're free to come up with me if you want. Otherwise, you can find a way to entertain yourself in the palace until it's time for dinner. My father said that tomorrow, he will personally judge your capabilities and, if he finds that anything is lacking, he will hire a tutor to bring you up to standard. But until tomorrow, you're free."

A _tutor_? She had gone through enough tuition when she was little to not want any more. She was an educated child and she retained the memory of what she learnt, including needlework, playing the piano and making tea or cooking. She even learnt Latin, the language of the merchants, since her father was a merchantman at heart and he wanted his daughter to know what he knew. Miku liked to think that she was in no way lacking. "I don't need a tutor for anything," it was a struggle to say this politely. "I was brought up well by my mother in Veracent and you will find that I have very good knowledge on how to properly run a household, as is expected of any noble lady," she forced the words out through gritted teeth. It seemed ridiculous, that the only thing she was needed for was to keep the home in order. She didn't want to be restricted by what society expected of her gender.

The prince just looked at her. His face was remarkably neutral. "It wasn't my idea, so telling me all this isn't any use," he said flatly. "My father was the one who wanted this, so if you have any issue with this arrangement then feel free to discuss it with him. I think he's still in his room, which is on the highest floor, so you can find your way there if you want. Meanwhile," he interlaced his fingers and stretched, "I'm exhausted after showing you around, so I'm going to get some rest."

He instantly walked away after that and she stared at him as he left her alone in the dining hall, his figure becoming smaller and smaller as he got further away from her. She didn't know if she wanted to wander alone in this palace she barely knew, or if she wanted to hurry after him and follow him back to his room, or if she really should go and find the king and request not to have a tutor. All three options sounded equally unappealing. Granted, anything was better than staying in her manor with her stepsisters, but here she felt so…stifled. There was really no other way to describe this. In the palace, it felt like there was an unspoken rule telling her to behave properly, to always smile, to not be rude or say anything out of hand. She became someone she had not been in a very long time.

She became the Lady Hatsune Miku, the only child of Duke Hatsune, a member of one of the Founding Four who had a direct bloodline linking her to the throne. Prestigious, yes, but also very restrictive. Even as a child, she had been used by her parents to sway people to their agenda – she meant this in the best way possible, for she loved her parents, but as she grew older she realised that there was a reason why her father always brought his adorable little girl to business meetings with him, and never formally promised her hand in marriage to any noble son. Other families were falling over themselves to secure her hand, for the fame and prestige of the Hatsune family would come with her joining their family. But her father never betrothed her to anyone because if he did, he would lose his secret weapon. Yes, her father loved her, but he was not above making use of what he had.

For once, she was struck by self-doubt. Could she pretend to be someone she wasn't? When she was younger, she had all this knowledge stored inside her but she never had to put it into practice since she was young, and she wasn't expected to be a part of high society just yet. When she reached the age where she was expected to make her proper debut into high society, her father passed away and she was left with her stepmother. She never got to leave the mansion after that, and she had grown to become the complete opposite of what a noble lady was expected to be like.

All these rules, dining etiquette, how to laugh and be pleasant – things that were as natural as breathing when she was little – were now rules she had to actively remember. As a servant she never had to bother about these. So certainly, she had her knowledge, but she didn't know if she had the patience to keep up such an image. The prince would most likely expect her to behave like any other aristocrat, but if that meant she had to throw aside all sense of self-identity, then she didn't know how long she could keep it up. Being a servant to her stepsisters after her earlier years of freedom had helped her to develop a sharp, acidic tongue, and controlling it would be a chore.

She made her way out of the dining hall first, deciding that just staying there and thinking to herself wouldn't help her figure out what she wanted to do. Of course, the best option would be if she was able to sneak off and leave the palace, but she knew she couldn't do that at this point. The prince would probably launch a nationwide search for her, and her stepsisters would know that she was gone from the palace. They might even participate in the search for her themselves, just to get back at her. She still didn't have much on her, so it wouldn't be long before she was found and forced to return to the palace – or even worse, the mansion. She could only leave when she was certain she had enough resources to bring her swiftly to the harbour, where she would probably board a ship and leave for an adventure, only returning when she finally decided to reveal her true identity and claim her inheritance.

For now, she had no choice but to remain in here. She might be on the impulsive side, but she wasn't stupid enough to leave the palace with nothing but this long, itchy nightdress. Besides, the palace guards would probably catch her slipping out – the only exit she knew was the main entrance, and there were bound to be people watching there. She groaned, thinking her options over in her mind – she could either go back to the prince's room, explore the palace herself, or look for the king. After some consideration, she decided that the middle option sounded the best, so she hitched her long skirt up slightly and went on her way. There were bound to be places she had not seen yet.

Len was really tired. He hadn't been lying about that. Spending the whole day walking around after waking up early in the morning took a greater toll on him than he thought it would. He had to be getting weak – in the past, he could go horseback riding or any other activity for hours on end before he got tired. Nowadays, getting up alone took far more motivation than he generally possessed.

But on the other hand, he didn't want to spend any more time with his fiancée. When she asked him why she couldn't go overseas, for that moment she reminded him so much of his dead beloved. She had once asked him the exact same question – why couldn't she be allowed to travel? Was it just because she was a lady, and was thus deemed weak and vulnerable? Most women never went further than a neighbouring state. At the very most they travelled to Veracent, since the country was so close to Ossyria that they might as well be considered one and the same. But to go to a different land…now that was unheard of. Yet his fiancée insisted, saying that if he allowed her to visit other parts of the world, she would view it as an engagement gift and be happy forevermore.

He had been powerless to resist her, so he said all right – she had to seek his permission, since once a lady was promised to another her husband held more say than her parents. If he had not agreed, she could not have gone unless she was willing to break the law. And he never regretted any other decision more than this. When she left, she never returned, at least not the way she departed. She came back to him two months later in a wooden box, and the next day she was six feet underground.

Cinderella was important. Perhaps not to him personally – she would never replace his dead fiancée – but she was important to his adopted father. Cinderella might be the key to a fascinating mystery. She might be the missing daughter of the Hatsune family, and if it was revealed that this was her true identity, then it would really shake up Ossyrian politics. It meant there would be another challenger to the throne. The Hatsune bloodline definitely had a stronger claim than the Kamui bloodline, but since Cinderella was supposed to marry him anyway he didn't think it would make any difference. Either way, she would become royalty. He wondered if that was really what she wanted.

The life of royalty was restrictive in so many ways. He always had to watch what he was doing – he could not do any wrong in the public eye, because everything he did reflected on his father and on his country. It was a life bound by rules and regulations, and though to the casual eye he may seem free and uncaring of authority, his every single day was planned and followed to the letter. He rarely did anything of his own accord. That was his duty as the prince – to learn the ropes, to follow his father, to rule when the time came for him to take the throne. It was everything that he was not.

He felt like Cinderella was the same. He didn't think for a second that she liked the fuss of being a royal. He had seen her face when the servants pulled her chair out for her and brought her the apple tart. He knew that she was a little uncomfortable with being waited on, despite coming from an apparently noble background. Honestly, he wasn't sure if she really was aristocratic since she never explicitly told him anything about her family. He only knew of her connection to the Hatsune family because of the rumours flying around at the ball, and furthermore she appeared to be related to them through the Dowager Duchess, who wasn't even of noble descent. It was a very messy affair.

It made very little sense though. She had not seemed to know of the fate of the Hatsune family – for one thing, she didn't know that the heir to the family's land, Hatsune Miku, was dead. And though it was said that the Dowager Duchess Hatsune was her aunt, she did not seem to know that said aunt held such a prestigious position in the nobility. For someone who was related through marriage to the Hatsune family, she seemed to know awfully little. But was that all just a façade? Was she lying about being a foreigner or was she lying about being related to the Dowager Duchess? But she couldn't possibly be lying about the latter, she really had been staying in their mansion – albeit in the cellar, but she was still _present_ in the house. So was she lying about being from Veracent, then?

He still didn't have concrete proof though. He would have to find out more before he could draw any solid conclusions. He felt that it was a good lead though, to focus on how clueless she had been on the second night of the ball. She was surprised when informed of the death of Hatsune Miku. If she really was related to the Hatsune family, she ought to have known that ages ago, _even_ if she was staying overseas in Veracent. There was something very suspicious about her lack of knowledge.

Maybe he would ask his father for further leads. There had to be more to Hatsune Miku – something that would help him with his search for answers besides the colour of her hair and eyes. There might be other people in the world who coincidentally had teal hair and green eyes like hers. Maybe there was some other behavioural tic or trait that he could identify, something to indicate that she was the lost heir. Or something like a birthmark maybe. Just trying to persuade Cinderella to tell the truth might not be the fastest way, and Len was anything but patient. He wanted to find out the truth quickly.

But for now, he was too tired to think. Yawning, he reached up and rubbed his eyes, longing to get back to his bed. It was his habit to take a short nap in the afternoon, especially during the summer months when it was too hot to get anything done past twelve noon. It was nearing autumn, and the temperatures were getting milder. That made him sleepy too. Actually, anything could make him sleepy. Len could probably sleep through a war, though of course that was stupid and he wouldn't actually do that. When he got drunk, he was a tired drunk too. After initially getting a little rowdy just like most people, he would just fall asleep right after that. He needed plenty of sleep to function.

Gumi would come and wake him up for dinner, as she usually did. Until then, he would take his well-deserved rest. Cinderella could wander around the palace or she could slip back here and take a nap next to him if she wanted – he was too tired to mind either way. He found his way back to his room and lay down on his bed. Less than a minute later, he had fallen deep into the world of dreams.


	15. Chapter 15

Miku somehow found herself in the library. The prince had shown her where it was earlier of course, but she forgot where it was so she was surprised that she could get there again by herself. It was a large space, probably as spacious as the ballroom, and numerous bookshelves filled the entire room.

All the knowledge in Ossyria was stored here, now that she thought about it. She looked around the room, her gaze following the bookshelves all the way up to the ceiling. Most of the shelves were almost twice her height, and she wondered how anyone was supposed to get to the books at the top. Carefully, she walked deeper into the library, marvelling at how many books there were here. It was a very quiet room with a high ceiling, and every step she made echoed loudly around her.

"Are you looking for something?" she heard someone speak behind her. She whipped around, her heart pounding in her chest, and came face-to-face with the prince's butler. Nakajima Gumo tilted his head quizzically, his expression carefully neutral. He had changed out of the simple linen white top and tan breeches he had been wearing this morning, and was now dressed in an elegant black butler's uniform. For a moment, she was shocked into silence. "Your Highness?" he prompted her when she didn't say anything. She blinked and shook herself. Since he was here, she might as well ask him for assistance. An idea had blossomed in her mind while she looked upon all these books.

"Do you know the library very well?" she asked, self-consciously tucking her hair behind her ear. The butler nodded, his green gaze flicking around the room before returning to settle upon her. "I take it that you spend much time here, then," she smiled. She didn't want to dive straight into her request because she knew it would sound strange, so she attempted to make small talk. He nodded again.

"The prince does not often require my services and my sister thinks that I'll only get in her way, so most of the time I find my own entertainment in the palace. My only duties comprise accompanying the prince out of the palace and seeing to guests who are staying with the king. Sometimes I also help the prince run small errands, but he's taking his customary afternoon nap now so I have some time for myself," he explained. "Usually I would be out seeing to Frost, the prince's mare, but the prince has spent time with her this afternoon so I decided to come here. The library holds great knowledge."

"I can see that," Miku answered, looking around the room again. She couldn't even see the other end, it was so far away. "How long have you been living in the palace?" she decided that it still wasn't quite time to ask about what was on her mind yet. Gumo blinked, seemingly confused about why she was asking him all these personal questions, but obligingly answered her anyway.

"My sister, Gumi, and I have been living in the palace ever since we were born. We have seen the kingdom change leaders a few times, and luckily we were abandoned at the palace doorstep when a more benevolent ruler was on the throne. My prince says that you are from Veracent, but even then you must know of the civil war that took place a few years ago, after the old king was overthrown," he paused, awaiting her response. She nodded, and he continued. "During the civil war, the palace changed hands three more times before our current king ascended to the throne. He is as fair and just as the old king who took me and my sister in, so I am thankful that he succeeded. The past eight years have been peaceful enough, and our kingdom is slowly beginning to prosper once more."

There was a genuine ring of respect in Gumo's words, and Miku could tell that he really did like the current king. Of course, she could understand why. The king didn't seem to be too uptight about things, but she figured that he was probably stern when it was appropriate to be. "I barely remember the civil war though," she admitted. "I learnt more while I was growing up, but during that period of turmoil I was only six years old. Veracent felt the effects of the struggle more so than other places," she frowned. "Those were dark times for both nations. But it is true that Ossyria prospers now."

Gumo looked steadily at her. "But it does not mean that Ossyria will always stay this way. Change has a funny way of making people panic. Things will change once it is announced that there is a new member of the royal family," the butler hesitated. His next few words were said in a rush. "What I tell you now will only help you, so remember this – the prince is searching for something. What he looks for, I do not know. But I hope you can help him find it. Everyone knows that he was adopted into the royal family three years ago, but no one knows why or the circumstances under which he was brought here. I will not tell you either," he added when she fixed him with a hopeful look, "but I believe that you are able to find what he is looking for. I have never before seen the prince taking an interest in anyone, be it romantically or otherwise, so I trust that you will only make his situation better for him. Disregard the murmurs. People will say that you mesmerised the prince, and jealous tongues will run rampant in the days leading up to your wedding. You must pay them no heed."

She was startled by the intensity of Gumo's words. The butler seemed to care for the prince in a way that went beyond professional – it was like they were truly friends. Perhaps they were. The prince did, after all, seem to somewhat disregard proper etiquette. Besides, she herself had befriended a few of her household servants in the past, when she was young and was still the Lady Hatsune Miku instead of the servant her stepfamily forced her to be. "I will keep your words in mind," was all she said, and the butler nodded, looking satisfied with that. She cleared her throat. "Thank you for your advice. I am wondering now though, if you would be willing to help me with one more thing?"

"Your wish is my command," he bowed to her. She hastily bade him rise, and he did as she wanted, those green eyes staring intently at her. She swallowed, suddenly nervous. She knew perfectly well what her request would sound like to him, or to anyone for that matter. But one look at the vast library was enough to tell her that she wouldn't be able to search for what she needed by herself.

"You have to promise me that my request, you will not repeat to anyone else in this palace. Not to your sister, not to the king, not even to the prince," she lowered her voice, leaning slightly closer to the butler so that he could hear her. Even though they were probably alone in this room, she didn't want to speak too loudly just in case anyone else was here and they overheard her. Gumo frowned, looking decidedly confused, and she watched as he thought over her request, his brow furrowed.

"Your Highness…I serve the prince, and I report to him before anyone else. You know that I cannot simply accede to your request. If your order involves him in a way that would harm him, I would be obliged to let him know. It is upon my honour as his butler," he answered, one hand reaching up to press upon his chest. Miku sighed. She knew he would say that, but she had to ensure he wouldn't tell anyone at all about her request. It was something that could easily be taken the wrong way.

"I do not intend to hurt him," she explained. "It is just that…my request is certainly odd, and I do not want anyone in the castle to believe that I am associated with the unsavoury. It just so happens that I came across a phrase which intrigued me, and it belongs to an area which most people would deem to be…suspicious. That is all. I have nothing personal against anyone who resides in the palace," she hoped that would be enough to reassure the butler. Gumo was still frowning, but slowly he nodded.

"If you can promise that I will not have to do anything that goes against my conscience, then very well. What is it that you need assistance with, princess?" he asked. She was thrown off by the way he addressed her – she was a princess now, and that was really very strange to hear. When she was little she had thought it would be nice to be a princess, but that fantasy was shattered when her father died. Yet now she was living the life that her younger self had once envisioned for herself.

"Does the library have books on the occult?" she saw his green eyes widen and knew that he was already drawing conclusions about her because of what she said. But just as quickly he stopped himself from thinking about it and nodded. "Show me where they are," she commanded. He quietly asked her to follow him and they went down the aisles, walking in silence through the vast library. The giant room was still as quiet as it was when she first entered, but now the echo of two sets of footsteps rang out through the place instead of just hers alone. It was comforting, knowing there was another person with her. She thought that by herself, she might end up getting lost in here.

They turned left and kept walking, until finally they were looking down the very last aisle in this row. "This shelf contains all the books the palace has about the occult, or various cults that sprang up throughout Ossyria's history," Gumo explained. "I do not know what you are searching for, and I am afraid that I cannot help you because I know little about such…societies. But I hope that you are able to find what you're looking for. If it helps, the older books are all placed closer to the walls, so if what you are searching for came into being many years ago, I would recommend starting there."

"Thank you," she turned to face him, grateful for his assistance. He had helped to narrow down her selection considerably – she didn't even want to imagine looking through all these shelves alone. He silently nodded and bowed to her before walking away, perhaps intending to finish whatever he had been doing before she came into the library. Taking in a deep breath, she looked at the stacks of books. She was considerably intimidated by this, but since she now had some free time without the prince, she might as well start finding out more about what the Viscount of Lexane asked about.

Honestly, she had no idea why she even thought to start looking from the occult section. The Viscount had dropped no hint that the Order of Bethlehem was even a tangible group. But the very word 'Bethlehem' made her uneasy. She guessed that there were religious implications here, so it might be something to do with a cult – even if it wasn't, she thought it might be related to the Church, and maybe something would come up in reference. She sighed. From where she stood, every single book looked the same. It would take forever before she stumbled across something related to the Order of Bethlehem, especially since the Viscount had to ask her for information. It probably wasn't easy to find anything regarding this mysterious Order, but she would try her best.

Deciding that she might as well go as far back as possible and work her way up, she walked towards the other end of the bookshelves, where Gumo said that the books were the oldest. She could tell they were old indeed – the air seemed slightly dustier in this particular half of the sections. She waved a hand before her face, coughing slightly. She grabbed a random book from the shelf next to her and grunted as the weight of the book fell upon her palm – it was surprisingly heavily. Hoisting the old, leather-bound tome up, she flipped the hard cover and studied the title of the volume.

"An Illustration of the Cadre Infernal," she read aloud, frowning. This probably wasn't what she was looking for. Carefully placing the book back onto the shelf, she took out another one from the shelf above it and did the same thing, looking for the title. "Excess and Evil: The Rise and Fall of the Sicario Brotherhood," she read. No, that probably wasn't what she was looking for either…sighing again, she put the book back. Oh well, but then she never thought that this would be easy. She would have to get through these tomes faster if she wanted to make progress. Resolutely, she took another book.

"Religion: The Boundary Between Faith and the Occult," she read. This one seemed to be a good option. She brought the book out of the shelves, thinking that even if it wasn't exactly what she wanted, at least she would have an interesting read. She walked down the aisles, looking for a place where she could sit and read, and heard Gumo calling out for her some distance away. Surprised, she looked around – the butler was standing two shelves away from her, eyeing her book curiously.

"Are you looking for a place to read, Your Highness?" he asked, climbing down the ladder he had placed against the shelves. She watched nervously, hoping that he wouldn't fall. Thankfully, he did not and he walked over to her without any mishaps. "There is a reading area at the very back of the library. I can accompany you if you wish," he bowed again, his light green hair falling over his eyes. She was getting rather tired of all the bowing the servants had to do whenever they spoke to her.

"You can cease with the formalities. They unnerve me," she remarked. He straightened at once, a puzzled look flitting across his face, but a second later his expression was stoic. "And yes, that would be wonderful. Would you show me the way, please?" she asked. He fell into step beside her and the two of them walked in silence. She glanced at the butler, who looked straight ahead, and wondered what he was making of the whole situation. Did he perhaps think she was associated with a cult?

"If you wish, I could carry that tome for you. It looks heavy," he suddenly spoke, breaking into her thoughts. She blinked, surprised, but was grateful for the offer – the book was very thick and heavy, and her arms were started to get a little tired. Of course she had carried far heavier things before while she was serving her stepsisters, but she just never seemed to build the same strength the other servants did – possibly because she did fewer menial tasks in comparison – and she was glad for the assistance. She passed the book to him, and Gumo spent the next few moments scrutinising the book intently. She ignored the way he regarded her chosen volume – he wouldn't find anything.

Eventually, they reached the end of the library. Gumo stepped forward and indicated an empty area towards the left of the room, next to a vast window that reminded her of the giant glass plane in the throne room. This particular window overlooked the rose gardens, which pleased her. It seemed like a nice place in which to read. "Here is the reading area, Your Highness. I shall leave your tome here," he placed the book down on one of the wooden tables. There were two tables, with four chairs situated around each table. "If you require more assistance, you need only ask for me. This library is so silent, and echoes ring loud through this room. I will certainly hear even your softest whisper."

It sounded almost like a warning, that last sentence, but she thanked him nevertheless and waved him on his way. He left, this time without bowing – he clearly remembered her request for him to stop bowing to her – and she settled on the chair, opening the book. There was a list of contents after the title page, with every header painstakingly illuminated in the most eerie, grotesque way. She shuddered, eyeing the claws and teeth drawn around each capital letter, and looked down the index for a section that might be relevant to what she wanted to find. Her fingertip trailed down the dried ink and finally paused at one particular header. ' _Religious Cults in Ossyria_ ', she read silently.

That might be useful. She took note of the page number and flipped to that page – it took some effort because it was towards the back of the book, but she got to the page with little trouble. Her face fell when she saw the tiny text – every handwritten letter was so small that she had to squint to read each word. This would take a while for her to decipher, and it would strain her eyes too. But she had set her mind to finding out more, and she intended to finish what she started. Resolving not to stop reading until she discovered relevant information or until it was dinnertime, she began.

* * *

Len woke up earlier than usual. He knew, because usually Gumi had to come into his room to yell at him to wake up and today she didn't do that. He lay on his bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling for a while. He couldn't go back to sleep even if he wanted to. For some reason, he felt…agitated.

Sighing, he ran an impatient hand through his messy blond hair. He had taken his hair out of his ponytail right before he fell asleep, and now he couldn't seem to find his hair tie. Irritated, he decided he would just leave his hair down for dinner. It wasn't so long that it would get in the way of his meal, anyway. Stretching, he felt his joints popping and stifled a yawn, kneading his neck with his right hand. He had contorted himself into a very strange position while sleeping, and when he woke up his neck was stiff as hell. This rarely happened, but when it did the stiffness wouldn't go away for some time. Sighing again, more irritably this time, he stood from his bed and walked out of his room.

What should he do? He had never woken up early before. There was still time until dinner – he had taken a look at his clock before leaving the room, and noted that there were thirty minutes left before dinner was ready. Thirty minutes with nothing to do was a long time. He calculated – if there was only half an hour left till dinner, it meant he had left his fiancée alone for a little over two hours. He wondered what she was up to. She had not been in his room when he woke up, so she was most likely entertaining herself since he didn't think she would dare to seek an audience with his father.

But where could she be? He didn't even want to begin thinking about where she might wander off to but besides going to look for her, he didn't have anything better to do at the moment. He decided that he would go to the basement and ask the servants if any of them had seen his missing fiancée.

Everything didn't seem so annoying now that he actually had a goal in mind. He was still a little tired though, so when he was walking down the stairs towards the basement while someone else was coming up, it took a while before Len was able to identify the other person. "Your Highness?" Gumo, his butler, looked surprised to see him. Of course he would be surprised. Everyone knew that he, Prince Romeo, was usually asleep at this hour. The only person who dared to wake him up when he was sleeping was Gumi, the head servant, and she only did so when she had food to placate him.

Len did not wake up easily. Three years ago, when he was recovering from his failed suicide attempt, he had slept practically the whole day. There was a time when he slept for fifty hours straight, and the king actually thought that he had successfully killed himself. He summoned the royal physician to take a look at him, and was informed that the prince was simply in a deep, deep sleep. Even now, after he was in a somewhat more stable condition, Len still slept a lot. He wasn't sure himself why he needed so much sleep because the exact opposite happened when he was younger. Maybe it was his body's attempt to replicate death, since he had stopped trying to commit suicide. He wasn't sure.

"Gumo," Len addressed him. "Have you seen my fiancée? She didn't come to bed with me so I don't know where she is right now. I don't want to search the whole palace myself for her, either," he added sourly. He wasn't sure if he was imagining the flash of hesitation that crossed his butler's face, but when he blinked the hesitation was gone, and Gumo was bowing towards him as usual. He wasn't that comfortable with Gumo behaving in such a subservient manner, since he did regard the butler as a friend rather than a servant, but Gumo insisted. He was, after all, Len's personal butler.

"She was in the library the last time I saw her. She is reading now. I am going up to the library to call her away from her books – it will be dinnertime soon, and since Gumi would usually be busy waking you up, I thought I would take it upon myself to fetch your fiancée," Gumo paused. "Would you like to do so yourself though, Your Highness?" he asked respectfully. Len thought over this.

"No, you can go get her. I'm hungry now," Len decided, hearing his stomach growl softly. He knew that it would be dinnertime soon, but he wanted food and he wanted it _now_. Gumo looked like he was about to say something, but Len barrelled on before his green haired butler had a chance to interrupt – Gumo was as much a nag as his older sister. "I'll just have a small snack. I'll definitely leave room for a proper meal, you need not worry about that," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Gumo looked like he wanted to sigh, but he held himself back and bowed respectfully once more. "Very well, Your Highness. I shall go to the library to fetch your fiancée down to the dining hall. Incidentally, your father, the king, has a message for you. He passed it to me, so I shall convey it to you now – he will not be joining you and your fiancée for dinner as he has urgent business to attend to with the head of the Sakine family. He expects to be home within two or three days. Meanwhile, you are to personally judge your fiancée's capabilities and decide for yourself if she would require a tutor in the various aspects of being a royal. His Majesty expects a full report on this by the time he returns to the palace," Gumo finished reiterating his message. Len scowled, but nodded anyway.

"What a pain. Oh well, since he insists," Len continued going down the stairs, walking past his butler. "Remember to call her down for dinner. If she doesn't arrive in time, I will eat her share. She can have the leftovers from the kitchen for all I care," he threw out irritably. He was still feeling cranky from his less-than-ideal nap. Since he was walking down the stairs, he failed to see the startled look on his butler's face. It was rare that the prince behaved this way. He might be moody, and at times he could be outright depressed, but he rarely sounded very…irritated. Gumo might even say that he sounded angry, but he knew that the prince certainly didn't behave this way when he was angry.

His Royal Highness Kagamine Len hardly ever became outright angry, but one of the servants had once incurred his wrath and it hadn't been a pretty sight. The servant had been tidying up the prince's desk and, being new, she started keeping everything away – the other servants in the palace had forgotten to warn her that the prince detested people going through his possessions. This was especially so if they touched his wedding ring – the simple silver band with a single sapphire that he treasured above all else. The prince entered his room just as the servant was keeping the ring away and flew into an absolute rage – he probably would have struck the poor woman if Gumo did not enter the room and calm the prince down in time. He had never seen the prince display so much emotion before, since he was normally rather reserved with his feelings. Watching the whole episode unfold was…terrifying, to say the least. No one ever dared to offend the prince ever again.

He made a mental note to warn the prince's fiancée about this particular pet peeve as well. Though they were about to be married, Gumo could not help suspecting that there was more to this royal engagement than met the eye. After all, he had spent three years with the prince and had seen him go through his self-destructive phase – back then, it hurt to watch the prince. It was like looking after a crazed madman whose only goal in life was to end his existence. Gumo lost track of the number of times they had to pull the prince off the highest floor of the palace. It took a long time before he climbed out of that suicidal period, and now he was just full of regret and moody most of the time.

Either way, he knew the prince was still in love with his dead fiancée. He might have proposed to Cinderella with his previous engagement ring – Gumo knew, since he had been nearby when the proposal took place – but the butler didn't think that Len would give up his actual wedding ring. It was odd too, that Cinderella did not wear the engagement ring on her finger. He noticed that her fingers were completely bare of any ring. Perhaps, when she ran away from the ball last night, she did so before she took the ring from the prince, but Gumo got the feeling that even if she owned the ring now she still would not be wearing it. Cinderella didn't seem like she really wanted to be here.

How he could sense her reluctance, he wasn't too sure. But he saw the way the girl looked out of the windows, an expression of longing on her face, and he felt like maybe she wanted something that lay beyond these palace walls. Both the prince and his new betrothed evidently had agendas of their own, but Gumo would not trouble himself by thinking too much about those possible ulterior motives. He was merely a servant, and it was not in his place to think so much about his master's plans. He could, however, pay attention if he thought that something might harm his master's welfare, and that was why he was observing Cinderella so closely. She was just so very suspicious.

What did she want to know about the occult? Did she, perhaps, belong to some kind of forbidden secret society? But unless she appeared to be causing harm to the prince, either directly or indirectly, he would continue to close one eye to her affairs. She had her secrets – everyone had their secrets, and he respected that. He would continue to stay near her and observe. But until then…he had hopes that she would be able to change his master. It would be nice if the prince could finally move on from his dead fiancée. An unlikely prospect, Gumo was aware, but it wouldn't hurt to hope. Maybe their self-serving relationship would, given enough time, grow to become genuine affection. It would not do well for a husband and wife to merely pretend that they were in love.

Maybe his sister, who was more observant and intuitive than he was, would have more insights into the relationship between the prince and his new bride. Normally Gumo did not gossip, but this was just too important for him to disregard. Letting out a sigh – he had wanted to sigh the whole day, but he could not do so before the prince or Cinderella since that would have been disrespectful – he straightened his shoulders and continued up the stairs. He had no doubt that Cinderella was still reading in the library. When he left the room half an hour ago, she had still been poring over that thick book he helped her to carry. Maybe he would find the same book after she was done with it and read the pages for himself.

Indeed, Gumo could read. Surprising for a servant, but then he was the prince's butler, not just any old servant. Both he and Gumi could read. The king had hired tutors to teach them how to read, for which he was grateful. The king's rationale was that, since Gumo and Gumi spent so much time with the king and subsequently the prince, then they had to learn how to read and speak well so that they could properly entertain their masters. Gumo didn't think that any other master would treat him and his sister so well, so he was truly grateful that their king had ascended to the throne.

He heard rumours that the head of the Kagamine family had been eyeing the throne as well, and he shuddered to consider that possibility. The prince himself was living proof of that man's cruelty. If Duke Kagamine ever became the royal ruler of Ossyria, there was no doubt that the country would be plunged into dark times. But at least the throne was secure now, and there was a defined heir in the prince and his bride. Things could be a lot worse for the people of Ossyria. Cheered a little, he headed in the direction of the library, hoping that Cinderella had not left the library during the time he spent away from it. This palace was so huge that it was practically impossible to find a specific person unless you knew where they were, and unfortunately Gumo did not know without doubt where she was.

He made his way to the library and pushed the heavy double doors open, thankful that the hinges had been oiled a few days ago. Before that, the doors made the loudest creaking sounds when they were pushed open, and he hated that sound, knowing that it would draw the attention of anyone else who happened to be in the library. Not that many people went to the library. Most of the palace help were illiterate, and his sister often didn't have sufficient leisure time to come to the library and read. So usually, the only people who came here often were the king, the prince on occasion, and any foreign diplomats the palace might be hosting at that time. Now, he could add Cinderella to the list of people he might encounter in here too. He was also rather surprised that she could read, actually.

Gumo did not know much about her circumstances. He knew that she was from Veracent and that she was somehow related to the dying Hatsune family. He also assumed that she was a noblewoman since she was at the ball and spoke with the air of an aristocrat, but he didn't know exactly how wealthy she was or any other relevant information about her. He couldn't even begin to guess since no one knew her true name, not even his master. And anyway, not every noblewoman could read. He had run into quite a few who only seemed to titter and chatter about the most pointless things.

He hurried over to the table where he last saw Cinderella and stumbled to a halt when he saw long locks of teal spread out over the wooden surface. Cinderella was sleeping on the table, her head resting against the open book. He ought to go forward and slide the book out from beneath her – these books were very old and fragile, and any moisture or pressure could damage them – but he stayed there for a while, just watching the sleeping princess. Princess…yes, she was a princess, now that she was going to marry the prince. It was odd saying that though. After all, they did not have a princess for a long time, and suddenly out of nowhere, they had one. Things changed quickly.

In her slumber, she looked peaceful. All the suspicion and carefulness he observed in her expression disappeared when she was unconscious. He watched her for a while – she was lovely when awake, but in sleep there was a certain innocence, almost naiveté, about her. Suddenly, in this one instant, he was convinced. If there was one person who could draw the prince out of his reclusive shell, and possibly make him forget about his tragic past, then it was Cinderella. Someone who could at once be so bold and strong, yet so weak and fragile, was certainly a force to be reckoned with.

"Your Highness," he whispered, approaching carefully and reaching out to touch her shoulder. She mumbled something and turned away, shifting her head so that she was facing the other way. He walked around to her other side, still watching her face carefully. There was now a faint line across her forehead, and he wondered if she could hear him in her dreams. "Your Highness, you must wake up. It's soon to be dinnertime," he tried again, touching her shoulder once more. She sighed in her dreams, her lips parting slightly. He froze, wondering if she would awaken, but in the end she didn't.

"Papa," he heard her mumble in her sleep. He almost felt bad about waking her, since he now knew that she was dreaming of her family, but he really had to fulfil his duties as butler and servant. If this girl came down late for dinner, Gumi would be upset, and he supposed the prince wouldn't be too happy either. Though he did say he would eat his fiancée's share of the food if she was late. He reached out once more, about to shake her shoulder again, but then he heard her mumble another word. "Romeo," she sighed, the frown on her face deepening slightly. He was startled by that. She had said the prince's nickname in her sleep. But judging from her frown, it didn't seem like she was enjoying her dreams…

"Princess," he called, giving her one sharp shake. The girl jolted awake, her eyes flying open. Those green orbs wild, her gaze flitted across the room before alighting upon him, and abruptly she relaxed. "It is dinnertime," he explained, pretending not to notice the way she reacted when she woke up. She stared wordlessly at him, and after a few moments she gave him a slow nod.

"Lead the way," she said faintly, reaching out to close her book. He took hold of the book for her, reminding himself to come back and read this particular tome when he had the time. After he put the book back where it belonged, he walked out of the library, Cinderella following closely behind him.


	16. Chapter 16

Len was bored. His food had yet to arrive and it was too late to go back to sleep, so he was just idling away in the dining hall, feeling the minutes ticking by. Today had been a relatively lazy day, and so would tomorrow since his father wasn't around. He wondered whether the king would really return within two to three days, or if his visit to the Sakine household would stretch on to an entire week…

To be honest, it was rare that he was so free. He usually had plenty of work clamouring for his attention, but for once there wasn't anything on his plate. On the downside, now he didn't really know what to do. He wasn't really the kind to participate in common noble entertainment, like hunting or such. He could certainly hunt with the other noblemen if needed – as, more often than not, these hunts served both a social and political agenda – but he didn't enjoy it. There were better things he could do with his time than to show off to a group of young nobles who had little on their minds besides entertainment and pleasure. What did he care for status and reputation? He was the Crown Prince of Ossyria, and he couldn't climb any further up the social hierarchy even if he felt inclined to do so.

Maybe in the past he would have been like the other sons of aristocrats – reckless, bold and full of pride. But everything changed, his whole life changed, when his fiancée died three years ago. He let out a hiss of pain and abruptly released the cutlery he was holding – he hadn't realised how tight his grip was, and now he examined the angry red marks that the silver left on his skin. They would fade, and he hadn't cut himself, thankfully. Setting his silverware back where it belonged, he picked at the edge of his napkin and kept his eyes focused on the grand doors of the dining hall. Suddenly, he was no longer quite as hungry. But if he didn't eat, Gumi would most certainly make a fuss about it.

A few more minutes passed, and then the doors started to move. Len blinked, unsure if he had imagined the slight movement due to how bored he was, but the double doors continued to move and he straightened in his chair, wondering if this announced the arrival of Cinderella. Sure enough, the doors soon opened fully and his new bride drifted into the dining hall, her long, untied teal hair tousled and wavy, her green eyes wide and flitting around the room. Her gaze landed upon him and her expression changed in the subtlest way – he noted the stiffening of her mouth and the way her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. But she continued towards him, his butler keeping a respectful distance as he followed her. Cinderella came to a halt right before him, looking almost uneasy.

"Did you have a good rest?" she asked, her tone even and respectful. Doubt pricked at him. It just seemed odd that she would speak to him in such a manner, given how agitated she had been around him this afternoon. She had not been rude of course, but he knew that she was far from the demure, meek girl she was pretending to be. But for now, he let his suspicions slide – he would probe and prod later in the comfort and privacy of his room, not in the dining hall in front of the servants.

"It could have been better," he answered as Gumo pulled out the chair next to his. Cinderella settled gracefully upon the vacant seat, her small hands placed primly on her lap. She, too, looked like she just recently woke up from a nap – her hair was slightly messy, her eyelids were soft and heavy, and there was an almost dreamy quality about her that was tempered by her current properness. "I was awoken earlier than what I'm accustomed to, and I failed to return to sleep…so I decided to come here and wait for dinner to be served," he pressed his fingertips together, leaning forward so that he was slightly closer to her. To give her credit, she didn't flinch. "So what did you do while I was taking my afternoon nap, Cinderella?" he questioned. "My butler here tells me that you were reading in the library. Did you find anything of interest? Our library contains vast knowledge," he smiled brightly.

Cinderella gave him a _look_. He didn't know how to describe it, but it made him feel like she knew what kind of game he was playing with her and she was determined to be a difficult opponent. How exciting, to have someone who dared to defy him this way – no one ever had the guts to stand up to him, not while he was Marquis Kagamine Len, and certainly not while he was the prince. The lack of rebelliousness had almost killed his old competitive spirit, but now he felt it surging back with a passion. "Yes, it's a fascinating place," her reply was calm and measured. "I saw a vast array of books, and it looks like it covers quite a range of subjects. I foresee myself spending plenty of time there," _and away from you_ , her eyes seem to whisper. But maybe he was reading too much into a simple facial expression.

"I'm glad that you enjoyed yourself," he continued to smile pleasantly, wondering what was going through that pretty little head of hers. It was irritating, that he could only guess and speculate – for all he knew, Cinderella wasn't as deep and complex a character as he was making her out to be – but for the sake of his own entertainment, he would prefer to imagine her that way. "Anyway, my father won't be joining us for dinner tonight, nor for the next few days. He has some business to attend to with one of the Founding Families so until then, I'm to judge your education and capabilities myself."

"You?" Cinderella cut in, her eyes narrowing at him. He found that he enjoyed the look of shock spreading across her face. "Why not just wait for the king to return from settling his affairs? After all, the king is the one who wanted me to be tutored, so I think that it's unfair for me to be assessed by another person," she argued. The displeasure on her face made it evident that she didn't want a tutor of any sort. She must have gone through tuition under a governess before, he assumed, and whatever she went through, it must not have been enjoyable. Perhaps he could use this observation as emotional blackmail.

"I'm not just _any_ other person," he reminded her. "I'm your soon-to-be husband, and that gives me more than enough right to decide on whether or not you should get a governess. But to be very frank, I don't care much whether or not you're tutored. As long as you know how to behave well, in a manner that is expected of the finest noblewomen, then everything is perfectly splendid. My requirements are not high," her eyes were brightening, much to his amusement. Before she could be too pleased about the situation though, he raised one finger. "But wait just a moment. You see, if I just turn a blind eye to your education, my father will be very unhappy. And of course, I do not wish to displease the king."

"So what do you suggest?" she frowned slightly, the faintest crease appearing on her otherwise smooth brow. Her face did not look like one which frowned or scowled very often, with that fair, blemish-free skin and her large sweet eyes. But her behaviour really seemed to indicate otherwise…she was such a confusing person, but that was what made her so interesting. "If you say that my manner is sufficient for the royal palace, then I'm sure the king wouldn't probe any further. I don't see any problem."

"Yes you don't, but I do. My father will no doubt ask the servants about you...but regardless of that I'm expected to arrange a meeting between you and the governesses my father has invited to teach you. If they tell him that you never met with them at all, it's bound to raise a few eyebrows…" he let his words drift off meaningfully. She stared hard at him, her lips pressed together into a thin line. He was sure that she knew what the problem was, and he was glad that he didn't have to spell the whole thing out for her.

"Can't you just bribe them not to say anything to the king? I really don't want to meet with any more governesses. I've had enough proper education when I was young, and I don't need to be patronised by a woman twice my age," her tone was clipped. He resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow and instead nodded understandingly at her. She scoffed. "Don't just _nod_ at me, Prince Romeo," her tone was sugary sweet, but he could hear the slightest hints of a threat. Her smile was disarmingly charming.

"Bribery is a corrupt practice. I'm not sure the king would approve of that if he happened to find out about it," he answered, a sing-song lilt in his voice. She narrowed her eyes at him and parted her lips, clearly about to respond, but at that moment the double doors – which Gumo shut on the way out, since he left right after his fiancée had seated herself – swung open and Gumi entered the dining hall, followed by a few other servants bearing large covered platters in a way that was reminiscent of their afternoon tea.

Cinderella was temporarily distracted by the commotion, turning around to take a look, and Len just exhaled quietly to himself and glanced down at the napkin on his plate. Cinderella was beginning to get very irritated with the whole matter, it was obvious enough, and he wondered how far he could push her before she really snapped about the governess thing. Why was she so adamantly against them, anyway? Had her childhood really been that terrible? He could only speculate, since he knew so little about her.

"The king is saddened that he cannot dine with the princess, but he sends his regards and will return as quickly as possible," Gumi addressed Cinderella, catching her attention. Gumi continued staring at Cinderella until she slowly nodded, her green gaze darting towards him, filled with confusion. Gumi smiled at the acknowledgement and moved on to him, stepping aside so that the servants could place his meal before him. They took off the silver cover, revealing mashed potatoes with caviar, stuffed roast goose and a slab of grilled beef. It looked excellent, but all the food served by the palace chefs was good. "Your Highness, you have received a letter from your friend, the Viscount of Lexane…do you want me to deliver it to your room, or to read it and tell you about the contents?"

Len was instantly interested. A letter from his senior, Utatane Piko? It had to be something noteworthy, for the Viscount would never have bothered to send a letter otherwise. The few letters they ever exchanged were usually invitations to some social function or another. In fact, that one time they met at his ball was the first time they spoke in over a year. "I'll read it myself. Have it sent up to my room – I hope that the seal is still unbroken?" he asked as another servant took the napkin off his plate, tying it around his neck. His soup, a creamy thick onion broth, had been placed before him, the steam wafting lightly off the surface of the liquid. His main course was now covered and shifted a little distance away from him, and he would only be allowed to tuck in after he was done with his appetisers.

It was irritating sometimes, dining etiquette, but even in his own home he had to play by the rules of royalty. There was a certain order to eating – soup, appetiser, main course, dessert, fruit or drink. The servants always brought out everything in one go and revealed the main dish to him before anything else, so that at least he had something to look forward to as he went through his soup and appetiser. Len was not very fond of soups in general, and the appetisers barely even whet his appetite so he was usually glad when he could finally eat the main meal. He looked at his fiancée to see how she was reacting to the whole situation – Cinderella was just staring down at her soup.

"Naturally, Your Highness. No one would dare to open the letter and read it without your express permission," Gumi answered as the servant behind him tightened the napkin, allowing him to begin eating. "If there are no further questions, then I ask to be dismissed so that I can attend to your request," she continued, already backing away from the table. Len just nodded idly and the head servant of the palace excused herself, leaving the dining hall as quickly as she came. Most of the servants followed closely on her heels, only leaving two of them behind so that they could clear up once he and Cinderella were done. He tucked into the hot soup, wincing as it burnt his tongue.

"A letter? From the Viscount of Lexane?" Cinderella asked just as he swallowed down a spoonful of onion soup. It was not polite to blow on hot soup before drinking it, which was a rule he always thought was an absolute bloody pain. How was he supposed to swallow this thing if it was scalding his throat on the way down? "Whatever he sent you must be extremely interesting," she continued as he ignored her and went on trying to force the soup down into his stomach. He looked up briefly and saw that she was gazing at the wall behind his head, her hand lingering on the spoon in her bowl of soup. "He certainly didn't strike me as the type to send letters to anyone, not even to you."

Len swallowed, resisting the urge to fan his tongue. The discomfort would pass. But no matter how many times he gulped down hot soup, he could never force his mouth to get used to the searing temperatures. "Yes, I'm sure that the letter will be interesting as well," he deigned to answer, observing her closely for her reaction. It was odd that she would take an interest in this letter – why, was there something about Utatane Piko that Cinderella was interested in? He could hardly imagine a reason. She hadn't seemed to pay any attention to the man while they were at the ball…so why the sudden change in attitude?

"That's nice, I suppose," she didn't say anything more about the matter, instead carefully spooning hot soup into her mouth. She did not react in any way to the scalding temperature, calmly sipping at the soup and finishing each swallow much faster than he did. In fact, if he didn't know otherwise, he would think that the soup she was served was cooler than his. He was impressed, despite himself. Here was clear indication that she knew what to do at a dining table. At the very least he could determine that she wouldn't need lessons on dining etiquette. "But before we talk about other things," she suddenly spoke up again, setting the soup spoon aside and dabbing delicately at her mouth with the edge of her napkin, "what will you do regarding the governesses? I will not go to see them quietly. If you insist, I will, but know that your new bride will be deeply unhappy about it."

The thinly-veiled threat amused him more than anything else. It really had been a while since anyone talked to him in such a manner. "I'll do what you want and send the governesses away – I believe that you have sufficient upbringing, anyway – but only on one condition," he set aside the soup spoon as well, deciding not to finish the rest of the contents. He really didn't like hot soup, and since onions weren't his favourite vegetable, he didn't see the point in forcing himself to finish the rest. Cinderella just continued looking steadily at him, waiting for him to continue, and he pressed his fingertips together, placing them lightly on the table. "In exchange for sending the governesses away and telling my father that you don't need any further tuition, you shall have to stay quietly by my side from now until our wedding passes. You are never to leave me, not even for a single instant. How does that sound to you?" he smiled and leant back in his seat, having finished saying his part.

Her reaction was a beautiful thing to watch. First came the disbelief – the almost imperceptible lifting of the eyebrows, the widening eyes, the thinning lips – then the anger, the emerald green that went from smooth and placid to stormy and malevolent. But even then, even with the anger in her eyes, she looked like an angel. As quickly as it came, the anger dissipated and she was back to looking like her usual calm, docile self. "What a strange request," her voice betrayed no hint of emotion, "but if you insist on me being around to annoy you to death, then very well. Until the day we are to marry, I will stay by your side just like a shadow," she inclined her head, keeping her gaze fixed to the table.

That went easier than he thought it would. She must really be desperate to avoid being taught by the governesses his father had hired. He knew she had to be desperate, to allow him to constrict her freedom and mobility so much, but the closer he kept her to him, the sooner he would crack the mystery that surrounded her. "Fine, then I'll see what I can do about the tutors. Don't worry though, I definitely will get them sent away, and you won't ever have to meet them," he promised. He would never break a promise, so he was determined to do as she wanted. She glanced up then, meeting his gaze, and her green eyes shimmered with relief. She nodded in thanks, and he just smiled back.

"This soup is very hot," she remarked, changing the subject. Her pretty lips closed around the spoon and she slowly withdrew, savouring the taste of the soup in her mouth. "I like it. I haven't had onion soup in a long time, and this reminds me of a happier past," she suddenly confessed. He cocked his head, interested by this titbit of information. It was one of the first pieces of personal information she revealed so far that actually sounded genuine. After all, who would lie about soup preference?

"You like hot soup?" he asked, regarding his own half-finished soup critically. "I can't say that I'm too fond of it myself. I prefer anything that isn't a main course to be cold. Like desserts and drinks, for example. Though I might enjoy warm treats every once in a while, like cake and pastries, but I don't have much of a sweet tooth to begin with," the servants waiting behind them moved forward, sliding their soup away and bringing in the appetisers. He stared at the small plate – on it, there was a single stick on which three rolls of meat were speared, and in between each roll there was a thin leek stalk. He wrinkled his nose. Bacon with leek instead of asparagus. What an odd combination.

"I like hot soups," she agreed, carefully holding up the stick with the tips of her fingers and biting off one of the juicy rolls. Her eyes widened and she quickly chewed and swallowed, her hand covering her mouth the whole time. "Oh, and leeks! I love leeks," she cheered, looking much happier than she did moments ago while they were talking about her tuition. For a moment, she looked like a little girl, overwhelmed by the familiar taste and smell of food. "I haven't had those in a while either! My aunt and cousins…they are not too fond of the vegetable," she admitted, catching his eye.

He could see why. Leeks certainly were an…acquired taste. But he decided not to comment on her favourite foods, no matter how different they were from his. "Well, I'm glad that you're enjoying your meal then," he answered crisply, quickly finishing off his three rolls of bacon. He just wanted to get to his main course – it looked exceptionally scrumptious today. They said no more and ate the rest of the meal in peace, though he did occasionally look up from his meal and catch Cinderella staring at him, a strange, distant expression on her face. He had to wonder what she was thinking about.

* * *

"Are the governesses coming tomorrow? Tell me they're not – I need time to settle some affairs before their arrival," Len whispered to his butler. Gumo was waiting outside his room, Len peeking out from behind the door – he didn't want Cinderella to hear what he was talking about.

His butler shook his head, looking mildly confused but not questioning the prince. "They aren't scheduled to come until the day after tomorrow. Is there a problem, Your Highness?" he asked, his green gaze darting between Len and the room beyond. Whatever was going on inside the prince's room, it was causing quite the ruckus. The prince himself was beginning to look a little strained.

"No, there's no problem," Len beamed, cringing as a loud 'thump' came from inside the room. "I'll deal with the situation myself. It's nothing really, just something my fiancée asked about, so I think it would be best if I handled it personally," his smile softened. "Anyway, thank you for seeing to me even at this hour, Gumo. I appreciate it, although I might not always openly express my gratitude."

This honestly sounded suspicious. Gumo wondered whether the prince was planning something reckless, or if he wanted to take his own life again for some reason. What the prince just said certainly sounded like a final farewell of sorts. "Is everything really all right inside there, Your Highness?" he asked, extremely concerned now. "You know that if you are facing any problems with your new bride, you can always tell the king about it…or, if you think I'm worthy enough you can tell me as well."

The prince shook his head abruptly. "No, no – there's nothing wrong. I'm just a little tired, and I thought that you had to be as well, running around with me the whole morning and barely getting any rest in the afternoon. You really are a good butler, Gumo," the prince exhaled, glancing back inside his room. The noise had quietened, but the prince still seemed rather tense. "Anyway, I think I ought to entertain Cinderella now. She doesn't look very happy about being ignored, so…have a good night and rest well, Gumo," the prince ended their conversation here, closing the door quietly.

Gumo just blinked and pondered over the prince's sudden show of sentimentality. If the prince said that there was nothing wrong, then he believed him – he wasn't the type to pretend that everything was fine and dandy if he didn't truly feel that way. The prince didn't like to act and behave like he was something he was not, so he rarely lied about how he was really feeling. But still, it was most unlike him to admit that Gumo was a good butler. No matter the reason, he thought it was a nice change.

Len exhaled, leaning against the door and pressing his fingertips against his forehead. He surveyed the mess Cinderella had caused – the clothes she had carelessly flung out from the wardrobe, the scattered papers all over the desk and the floor, the spreading ink puddle on said table that would probably give Gumi an aneurysm the next morning, the bloodstained carpet and the broken shards of glass that were all that was left of the mirror. Cinderella was sitting on his bed, sniffling as she pressed some linen against the shallow cut in her palm. That was what happened when you tried to test the strength of the glass and ended up breaking the mirror in the process. It was absolutely ridiculous.

"Bad enough that you decided to thoroughly explore my room and make a mess of it in the process," he sighed, looking around the room and taking note of everything that was out of place – he would get someone to come and deal with it in the morning, since now he was too tired to even think about summoning the servants. He wanted to rest. "You threw out my clothes to count how many outfits my wardrobe can store, you messed up my papers – of which majority are related to state affairs, by the way – while knocking over my inkwell, then you smashed my mirror with your fist and ended up bleeding all over my carpet. I don't care that you tripped and fell onto the mirror. It's still your fault – you're a noblewoman, and you danced so gracefully at the ball! How could you have tripped?"

"I didn't notice the carpet edge was in my way!" she defended herself, glaring at him from where she sat on the bed. The linen, which he had ripped from one of his older white shirts, was slightly pinkish in colour but thankfully, no more vivid red blood soaked through the thin cloth. "You should have carpeted the entire floor, not just part of the floor – that would make everything so much easier. And you were the one who allowed me to look around – you even _dared_ me to mess it all up as much as I could, don't deny that," she added. Len sighed, not bothering to respond to that.

"You made enough noise to force Gumo to come up here and ask about what's going on. I don't even want to see his face, or Gumi's face, when they see my room in the morning. Both of them adore cleanliness and this would be their very idea of hell," he said wryly, moving over to the bed and sitting next to Cinderella. She stiffened at his close proximity but she didn't try to move away from him, and Len held out a hand, waiting to examine her injured one. Reluctantly, she placed her hand in his, her palm facing downwards. The linen strips were wrapped tightly around her injury.

Thankfully it was nothing too deep. She had sustained a few scratches when the glass broke, but that was about it. She claimed it was an accident that she broke the mirror – which he honestly doubted, since how could anyone fall and just so coincidentally smash a mirror with their outstretched hand? – so he was just grateful that it wasn't anything too serious or life-threatening. "Looks like the bleeding has stopped," he turned her hand over so that her palm was facing upwards, peering closely at the pinkish linen strips, coloured by her blood. "We can probably take these off now, and then you can wash the wound and hopefully it'll recover without scarring," he looked up at her. She was staring down at her injured hand, gnawing on her lip the whole time. "Are you sure you don't need a tutor, to teach you how to walk properly?" he asked, semi-jokingly. At this point, he might honestly consider it.

When she looked up at him, Cinderella's green eyes were blazing, and he swore that she could probably drill a hole right through him. "I do not need a tutor. This was an accident, and it will not happen again," she gritted out, her fingers curling slightly as though she wanted to make a fist. But his hand was still lingering over hers, and maybe she didn't want to touch him because her fingers came a little closer to his hand before they stopped moving entirely. "I think I'll keep them on for the rest of tonight, at least until I can be absolutely certain that the scratches aren't bleeding anymore," she added, finally withdrawing.

His lips tilted up into a wry smile. "Very well, if that's what you want," he looked around, observing his room once more. "And now we have to sleep amidst all this mess. You really are adventurous, aren't you, Cinderella? It seems like you enjoy pushing the boundaries of what you're allowed or not allowed to do…or maybe you're just trying to anger me," he regarded her closely. She didn't even bat an eyelid at the accusation, and he relaxed marginally. "Whatever your reason is, in order to prevent this from happening again, I suppose I'll just have to keep a closer eye on you…" he lowered his voice, leaning closer to her and murmuring in her ear. She flinched back, eyes suddenly wide.

"You already insist on me always being by your side – otherwise you won't get rid of the governesses for me," she reminded him. She was now sitting facing him, the only thing between them being a few inches of empty air. She was so close to him – and he suddenly remembered the plan he had come up with earlier today, to fluster her into spilling all her secrets to him. This would be a good time to try this theory out.

"There are other ways through which I can keep a closer eye on you," he continued in that same low, sensuous whisper. He was suddenly glad that he had experience with the opposite sex, no matter how miserable that experience made him become. His hand suddenly latched onto her free wrist, the one that was not injured. He heard her gasp at the touch while he pulled her hand back towards him, letting it press against his cheek. Her hand was soft with the faintest hint of callouses, which was something he found extremely fascinating – those who were of similar or equal social status as him never had calloused hands. "Well, you are my fiancée now, and soon enough you will become my wife," he mused, keeping her hand against his skin. "So nothing wrong here, is there?"

"We are not married! At least not yet," she exclaimed, yanking her hand free of his grip. Her cheeks, normally fair as porcelain, looked slightly pinkish now. That was a clear sign that she was, at the very least, caught off-guard by this. It just proved his theory that she was unfamiliar with or unused to intimacy and the opposite gender. His smirk grew. This would probably aid him in searching for the truth. She was bound to let down her guard eventually while she was being embarrassed.

"Soon enough, we will be," he interjected smoothly. "Which is why you should start practicing how to sleep comfortably by my side. It's something you're going to have to get used to," he caught her hand again, this time tugging the girl closer. She gasped as she was dragged across the bed, their faces suddenly so close that he almost kissed her. It was actually surprisingly entertaining, watching her squirm in obvious discomfort. "So why don't we start tonight?" he smiled, tugging her down.

Cinderella gave in after a while, grudgingly lying next to him, but when he snaked his arms around her waist he felt her stiffen even further, if that was actually possible. She might pretend not to notice or pay any particular attention to their sudden intimacy but he knew that she was affected by his actions.

What was strange though, was the fact that she put up less resistance to his actions than he initially thought she would, so maybe she wasn't as against this as he originally assumed…after all, he wasn't really sure whether Cinderella genuinely liked him or if she had some ulterior motive for getting close to him. Her current behaviour definitely seemed to indicate the latter, but at the same time she hadn't seemed to have any ulterior motive – no obvious craving for fame, attention or money. So what did she want, if it wasn't his status as the prince or the wealth of the royal family? What did Cinderella want from him in particular that other noblemen at the ball could not provide?

Despite all that, as he lay quietly in the darkness – for their candle flame had burnt out some time ago – another warm body lay close beside him, and for once, he didn't feel quite so alone.


	17. Chapter 17

Miku woke up in the middle of the night, gasping for air. She thought she smelled flames and ash, the scent of flesh and wood charring. When she closed her eyes she could still see the orange flames dancing through the gaping windows, and she remembered closing her eyes and wailing at the sky…

The room was unfamiliar. It took her a while before she remembered that she was in the prince's bedroom, and it was the middle of the night. She let out a shaky breath, dragging the back of her hand against her face. The moonlight shone in through a gap in the curtains, illuminating the desk with the spilled ink all over the wooden surface. She looked at her injured hand, squinting at the makeshift linen bandage. She couldn't really see in the dark, but she thought that the bleeding must have stopped completely by now. The wound, to begin with, hadn't been extremely serious.

The prince was the one who had challenged her to mess up his room if possible, and she was never one to back down from a challenge. It all started when she commented on how tidy and neat the room was, which was something she had not anticipated, given the prince's character. He was curious about what sort of _character_ she thought he had, and she said it was a secret. So he told her that if she believed he was messy and disorganised, then she should change his room to reflect that. She took his words to heart and promptly started on her task, taking great relish in destroying his personal belongings – it was a great way for her to destress, since she had been getting more and more frustrated over her situation and what she read in the library. Until she smashed the mirror.

After resting a while, she felt like she was ready to go back to the library and continue reading up on the occult. The book she had chosen, while interesting, had not provided any insight on the Order that Utatane Piko had talked about in his carriage. She was starting to wonder whether it really was something to do with the occult, but her intuition told her that she was going down the right track. What could it be, besides something to do with religion and secrecy? The Order of Bethlehem…it was a name that had so much religious connotation that no one could mistake it for anything else.

But she couldn't just slip out of the bed. The prince's arms were still wrapped firmly around her waist, which was surprising since they had been there even before she managed to fall asleep. She was shocked that his arms hadn't gotten numb yet. She turned around carefully to take a look at the slumbering prince – his face was in shadow so she couldn't make out his features, but the steady rise and fall of his chest seemed to indicate that indeed, he was fast asleep. Maybe she could worm her way out of his embrace without waking him up. If she was lucky, he would be a heavy sleeper.

Carefully, she took hold of one of his hands and tried to shift it away from her waist, and at first she succeeded in budging him slightly. But then the prince let out a quiet groan and turned over, and she let out a quiet squeak as he pressed himself even closer to her. His front was right up against her back, and her cheeks warmed, unused to such proximity with a member of the opposite sex. She tried again to remove his hands, but his grip tightened when he moved and she found that it was practically impossible to pry his fingers away from her. She finally stopped and gave up when his breathing hitched, and she thought that he was about to wake up. Thankfully, he continued to sleep.

Why was he being so close to her? She didn't understand. He didn't seem to really like her…did he? She couldn't tell. While he did show concern for her when she was injured, even going so far as to rip up one of his shirts to use as a makeshift bandage, she didn't think that he was really attracted to her or anything. It didn't make sense. The first night of the ball he told her that he only sought a companion, and she didn't believe that he would change his mind so suddenly. There had to be an ulterior motive, but what? And was the king part of the conspiracy too? Maybe this had something to do with the governess he insisted on getting for her…suddenly, the thought made her queasy.

It was just odd because she couldn't imagine any possible reason why the prince would keep her around. It was possible that he had a reason besides wanting a bride, but she couldn't even begin to imagine what the other reason might be. Maybe he needed a bride for something else, like a ritual or something…no, now she was just thinking too much about it. She would only scare herself if she continued to think up of terrible fantasies like that. She blamed her occult reading for her wandering thoughts – if she hadn't read that book, she wouldn't be thinking of such horrible developments.

"Rin…" suddenly, she heard the prince mumble a name. She stiffened, wondering if he had awoken, but his even breathing indicated otherwise. She peered over at him again, and could just barely make out a small smile on his face. He didn't say anything more besides that name, so she guessed that he was talking in his sleep. Perhaps it was the name of his dead fiancée. She didn't know how to feel about that – did she pity him, knowing that he was dreaming about a dead girl? This 'Rin' would not be around when he woke up, and she personally understood how that felt. She had dreamt so many times before of her dear father, and whenever she awoke, she would always be alone.

In fact, just now she had dreamt of her father. But it was not a pleasant dream. It was the same old nightmare, the one where they were in the house and it was burning and he pushed her out of the backdoor into the yard, just before a burning plank fell and blocked his way out. He shouted at her to stay outside, and she did as he said, waiting for her father to leave the house too. He never did.

She forced herself to stop thinking of bad memories. They would do nothing but bring her more pain and regret. Glancing at the window and the single ray of moonlight, she closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing, inhaling and exhaling deeply. Since she could not get out of the prince's arms, then she would just try to go back to sleep. Hopefully the nightmare wouldn't come back to her.

* * *

Len was groggy. Gumi had come in as usual, whipping open his curtains and shaking him awake, holding a tray of freshly-baked croissants as a peace offering. However, the head servant clearly had not expected to encounter such a mess in the prince's room and was now mumbling to herself, observing the mess around her. Meanwhile, Len quietly bit into a croissant and sipped on some tea.

His fiancée was not in the bed when he woke up this morning. She must have left before he woke up since Gumi said she wasn't there when she came in. He wondered where she had gone – maybe to the library again? The sudden thought that she might be spending time with his butler crossed his mind. He paused – he wasn't sure how he felt about the mental image, but ultimately he shrugged and pushed the thought away. He didn't love the girl; she was free to accompany whoever she wanted. So long as her actions didn't get in the way of his investigation, he was perfectly fine.

"What did you two do last night?" Gumi groused, already wiping away the spilled ink on the table. Thankfully the mahogany desk was varnished so the ink didn't soak into the wood. "This room is a complete mess! We'll need a new mirror, a new shirt to replace the one you ripped to shreds, and a scribe to rewrite all the transcripts the ink stained. Thankfully the palace scribe has not been too busy recently – might as well make him work for his pay," she continued to mumble to herself. Then she realised that the prince wasn't responding to her. "Your Highness? Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, yes," Len answered absentmindedly, still eating his croissant. This wasn't enough to fill his stomach – it was just a peace offering because anyone who ever woke him up from his sleep would suffer his wrath, unless they came with food to placate him. The palace help had realised that after a few nasty incidents. "I was just wondering where my fiancée went. I hope she has eaten breakfast," he looked out of the window, squinting against the morning light. It was too early to be working.

"Yes, she has. I think my brother would have settled that. He told me he saw her wandering around the palace grounds earlier, so I trust he ensured that she has eaten," Gumi said promptly, holding up her stained tablecloth and glaring daggers at the ink blotches. "This tablecloth will never be clean again. I suppose we will have to get new cleaning supplies. Honestly, Your Highness, what were you doing last night? You have never particularly cared for cleanliness, but this is completely…different."

"Oh…Cinderella was in a foul mood last night, that's all. I'm afraid she might have, ah…destructive tendencies," he finished the rest of the croissant, popping the last bit of buttery flaky pastry into his mouth. It was warm and fluffy, exactly how he liked it. Then he sipped at his tea. "But I trust that you will be able to sort my room out before I come back for my afternoon nap, Gumi?" he smiled. The head servant slowly turned to face him, something almost like irritation in her eyes. It was quite amusing actually, watching her rein in her temper, but she nodded and bowed nevertheless.

Len did feel guilty about causing her to do more work, but some sadistic part of him just found it very entertaining. Besides, the mess wasn't even his fault…at least, not completely. Now he knew better than to challenge Cinderella to anything. From last night, it appeared that she took such challenges extremely seriously. Or maybe she just didn't like him. Possibly a combination of both. "Your Highness, the rest of your breakfast is awaiting you in the dining hall. And the governesses, what do you want to do about them? They'll be arriving tomorrow. Do you still wish to send them away?" Gumi hesitated. "The king will no doubt wonder about why you opted to do such a thing."

Len paused. "I made a promise," he finally answered, wrapping his hands around the hot cup of tea. It was Earl Grey, one of his favourites. "And I never break my promises. My fiancée doesn't want to be tutored by governesses, so she will not be. Simple as that," he finished the rest of the tea in the cup, frowning in disappointment when the last drop was gone. He would ask for more later.

"You care for the girl, then?" Gumi asked. Then she seemed to realise her position. "I'm sorry, Your Highness. I did not mean to be so direct," she added, letting the stained tablecloth drop into a pail full of water. Upon seeing the mess in the room, Gumi had ordered one of the servants to fetch her cleaning supplies, and she was now in the midst of tidying up the place. Len idly watched her.

"Care for the girl?" he asked, surprised. Did he care for Cinderella? He supposed he did – he had been concerned when she injured herself, after all. But he wasn't sure if he cared for her as a person or simply because she was the key to a giant puzzle he had set his sights on solving. And anyway, the issue about keeping to his promise wasn't so much about concern – he had simply made a promise, and he was not a person who would break a promise. There was nothing to do with concern here. "Of course I do. She's my bride-to-be. It won't be long until we marry, and what husband doesn't care for his wife?" he tilted his head, setting his now-empty cup on the trolley Gumi had wheeled in. It was a very small and light trolley, but Len still had no idea how she managed to wheel the thing up the stairs from the kitchen all the way to his room. Then again, Gumi was really a miracle worker.

"If you say so, Your Highness," Gumi did not turn to look at him, instead focused on picking up the shards of glass which glittered coldly on the bedroom floor, catching the light of the sun as it climbed through the sky. "Mirrors are not cheap, at least not mirrors with the same high-quality clear glass as the one you shattered," Gumi continued to mutter to herself. "As if the palace expenses currently are not enough…" her words trailed off, and Len pretended that he couldn't hear her mumbling.

Len swung himself off the bed, stretching as he yawned. For once, he had not changed out of his daytime attire – it had slipped his mind to change last night, what with his fiancée distracting him and being a complete nuisance in his room. "I'll be making my way to the dining hall now," he called out, wandering out of the room. "Please remember to take a break from cleaning and don't be so obsessed with getting the place sparkling clean – I live here, yet I am not as fussy as you are," he pointed out. Gumi nodded in acknowledgement, but he doubted that she would really follow suit. She had her own principles with regards to cleanliness, and nothing would ever change her mind.

Len walked out into the passageway outside. It was a nice morning – the sunlight wasn't too bright, and he had gotten a pretty good night's sleep. He couldn't remember what he dreamt about, but he thought it was a good dream. He also remembered being enveloped by a feeling of warmth and softness – was it because of Cinderella? He couldn't be sure because she wasn't around when he really woke up just now. It was a pity that she disappeared so quickly, since he was interested in finding out if their close proximity the whole of last night had affected her in any way. It was like a private experiment of sorts. He had the feeling that she would be fairly susceptible to intimacy.

Maybe it was just because she didn't look like the kind who had a lot of experience with men. With her mother and aunt controlling her that way, wanting her to find a fiancé of noble descent at the ball…no, she definitely didn't have experience with men. A small smirk curved his lips – well, he had the honour of being the first, then. Of course, this was all assuming that she was telling the truth about her aunt and mother. Why was it so difficult to separate the truth from the lies when it came to Cinderella? The only thing he felt absolutely certain about was that she liked hot soup and leeks.

Oh well, he would find out more in due time. That was the sole point of this marriage, after all. He might not love her, but it was more than just a marriage of convenience. At that moment, as he was walking down the stairs, he chanced upon his butler – Gumo was walking down the corridor towards the stairs he was currently descending, looking like he was heading up to Len's room. Gumo stopped at the sight of the prince and greeted him the usual way, a deep bow followed by a formal address. Len waved it away. "Gumi must have asked for your help. Did you hear about the mess in my room?"

Gumo was wearing a faint frown on his face. "Yes, one of the other servants told me. She also said that Gumi requested for my assistance, so I suppose that the situation is quite bad," he sighed. "I do not know whether I even want to take a look, but I cannot just leave my sister in the lurch. What did you do in your room last night, Your Highness?" he asked beseechingly. Len just rolled his eyes – why did everyone immediately assume that it was his fault and not his fiancée's? Was it because he was male and she was not? This was discrimination. Gumo seemed contrite. "I apologise if I offended you in any way with my words, Your Highness. But you _are_ the one living in that room, after all…"

" _Cinderella_ was the one who caused the mess. Keep that in mind later – maybe you won't be on such friendly terms with her after seeing the chaos she created," he told him, tone slightly sharper than usual. Gumo blinked, looking surprised by Len's snappy answer. To be honest, Len was startled by his own manner of speaking too, and tried to tone it down when he next spoke. "I mean, just remember that she isn't a complete angel. She might be stunning, but her beauty belies a wicked mind," he explained, starting to feel uncomfortable about the way his butler was scrutinising him.

Gumo nodded slowly. "I understand, Your Highness," he bowed again, a very quick one this time. "I will do as you say. And incidentally…" he lifted his gaze to meet his, those green eyes boring into his. There was a faint smile on his butler's face. "There is nothing going on between your fiancée and I, in case you happen to be concerned. I serve her the same way I serve you, since she is the princess and her every word is our command, much like yours. I would never dare to treat her as anything besides a mistress – and besides, I am too old for her," he added, that faint smile widening just a little bit.

Len choked at that. He thumped on his chest, trying to breathe as his butler started towards him, concerned about his master. He held out a hand, indicating to Gumo that he ought not to come any closer, and the green haired butler stopped. "I am not _jealous_ ," he wheezed when he regained his composure, "in fact I don't feel anything at all about you spending time with her. Accompany her in my stead. I don't have time to entertain the whims and fancies of a girl enthralled by the palace," he drawled, struggling to cover up his coughing fit just now. That was not how he wanted to react to his butler's assumptions. Gumo just frowned a little, peering at him closely. He was still concerned.

"I don't really think your betrothed is _enthralled_ by the palace – in fact, it seems quite the opposite, if you ask me. She would rather spend more time in the library. She's there right now, actually – I just helped her to carry a few books to her table," Gumo hesitated. "You might want to spend some time with her in the library and see what she's reading. She certainly is interested in very diverse topics…" his voice trailed off, and he fidgeted uncomfortably. Len stared at his butler.

"Maybe one day," he finally said dismissively. "I'll drop by the library later, if I'm bored enough to actually go looking for her. I can't believe she's making me run around the palace like that, as though I'm her personal servant," he muttered, ignoring his butler's brief look of amusement. "Anyway, you'd best go find your sister. And don't worry," he added as his butler nodded and turned away, heading up the stairs, "I don't think anything of you spending time with my fiancée. I'm certain that there's nothing between you two, anyway. Just…well, it would be good if you were to develop a close friendship with her. If she says anything odd or of interest to you, let me know at once," he ordered. Gumo turned back at that, a quizzical look on his face, but slowly he nodded again.

"I will leave now then, Your Highness. Have a good day," his butler politely bade him farewell and went on his way up the stairs. Len was left wondering about the way he had reacted just now. He didn't feel anything in particular about his fiancée spending time with his butler, right? Nothing besides amusement at the notion, of course. It was so strange to see his normally stoic butler interacting with any female besides the servants and his sister. Not that he had really seen Gumo _talking_ to Cinderella, but from what he was told and what he heard, they did spend time together.

Oh well, he had better things to do than to worry about that anyway. It wasn't like he was really romantically interested in the girl anyway – but no one, including Cinderella herself, had to know about that. Whistling merrily, he made his way to the dining hall, starting to feel famished. He wondered what was for breakfast today – hopefully scones, he really was in the mood for scones.

* * *

Miku was reading to herself in the library. Earlier, after taking a walk through the palace grounds, she came up to the library and ran into Gumo again, who really did seem to spend a lot of time in this place. He helped her carry a few books again, and shortly after that a servant came into the library and whispered something to him, so he bade her farewell and left her alone to her books.

She didn't think she had ever read so much in her life. It wasn't that she hated reading or anything – she just didn't devote all her time to it. When she was younger she always had better things to do, like exploring the yard outside and chatting with other noble children. While trapped in the manor, books had been an escape, but they were a luxury since she hardly ever had time to just curl up alone somewhere with a book to read. So her mental stamina was not really as high as it could be, and after a few pages she felt like taking a nap. Nevertheless, she forced herself to persevere.

The tome she was reading now was even older than the one she read yesterday. This one was titled, ' _The Life and Lies of Pablo, Founder of the Great Order_ ', which had sounded like such a sensationalist title that she couldn't help but want to read it. Besides, it had something to do with an 'Order' so maybe there would be some relevance to what she was searching for. So far, the book's contents were not living up to its title, and the text itself was dry and information-laden. She realised that she was reading the same line over and over again, and letting out a quiet sigh, she shook her head and flipped to the next page. If she was tired so easily, there was no way she would find information…

She continued to read, trying to get absorbed into the writing. It was quite fascinating really, since the Pablo they were discussing was the originator of a particularly unorthodox belief – that the devil was not as dangerous or evil as people were led to believe, and as long as he was summoned in the right way the devil could grant wishes and cause feats even more impressive than those of Christ. It was unbelievable to her, so it all read like something out of a story. But she wasn't connecting with the text, which frustrated her – it simply made reading every single word such a tedious chore.

She heard a 'thump', and looked up only to see her fiancé settling into the seat opposite hers. The prince was still dressed in the same clothes as he was wearing yesterday and last night, and they looked a little rumpled – not that it really mattered since he wasn't receiving any guests today. But it reminded her of how he had hugged her to sleep last night and suddenly, she found that she was not able to continue looking at him. Hastily she held up the heavy tome, making sure to hide her face.

"You seem awfully absorbed in that book," the prince's voice sounded curious. "It must be a very interesting title, to be able to keep your attention for so long. I've been watching for a while, and you haven't moved at all for the ten minutes I was here. What are you reading, Cinderella?" she saw his slender fingers curl over the edge of the book and suddenly he pushed it down, revealing her face to him. The prince was watching her curiously, tilting his head as he awaited an answer. "I never thought my fiancée was a bookworm," he added. "You did not seem like the type who read often."

"Well, I'm full of surprises," she retorted, heaving the book up so that it hid her once more from his sight. Miku was not in the mood to hold a conversation with the prince right now. Prince Romeo, however, seemed remarkably persistent about conversing with her – once more, he pushed the book down so that she was looking at him, and this time he shoved the book away from her too. She protested, reaching out towards the closed volume, but he seized both her hands in one of his own and stared intently at her. She quietened, watching him and wondering what he wanted from her.

Of course he was the first to speak. "Why don't you stop reading these books and spend some time with me today?" he beamed, blue eyes practically sparkling at her. It was such an innocent look that she couldn't help but feel suspicious – she had seen enough of the prince to know that he was a very good actor, and this differed enough from his usual behaviour to make her think that he was planning something. "If we are to be married soon, then it would be best for us to get to know each other as much as possible, don't you agree?" he tilted his head, suddenly looking extremely… _cute_.

No, _no_ – she wasn't going to think that. Prince Romeo was anything but cute. He was the same age as her, for crying out loud. Eighteen was _beyond_ the age where anyone should seem adorable. "If…if you really want to," she almost stuttered, but slowed her words down so that she could enunciate better. The prince blinked at her, those blue eyes still wide. What was with his behaviour today?

"Oh, but of course I want to. You're my fiancée, aren't you?" he tugged on her hands, rising up from the table and forcing her to stand with him. "I didn't have much planned today, but I thought that we could go riding through the woods together. I have a sudden desire to go hunting," he was pulling her away from the table, and she stumbled as she tried to catch up with his longer stride. Miku let out a soft cry of panic and dug her feet into the ground at the mention of riding. She did not want to be anywhere near a horse, _especially_ not the prince's condescending mare. She could not see the prince's face now, but she bet that he wore a look of devilish anticipation. The cute act had probably been just to fluster her so that she wouldn't resist so much when he forced her to leave.

"I think I shall stay here and read," she babbled, trying to come up with all sorts of ways to decline the prince's offer. The prince turned to look at her, those previously wide eyes back to their usual slanted, knowing look. The expression in the prince's eyes always seemed to border on arrogant, or at least it usually did. "I don't…I don't really like horses," she whispered. "And if it's possible I think I'd like to excuse myself from watching you hunt as well. I don't really like the sound of rifles either."

The prince stared at her for a moment. His fingers were still latched tightly around her wrist. She feebly tried to pull away again, but she guessed that he barely even noticed her struggle. The mere mention of a horse was usually enough to make Miku falter – it really wasn't that she was terrified of horses, at least not that she thought, but she just greatly disliked them. She had seen what an out-of-control horse could do to a man, and the memory of that just always sort of lingered around her, affecting her interactions with the equine beasts. "You will become the princess of this kingdom, and one day you will be queen of Ossyria," the prince's voice sounded flat. "How could you avoid going to hunts forever? You know that hunts are often a symbolic representation of bonding and alliance. If you sit out on hunts, even on casual ones like these, the other nobles might feel…ah, offended."

She resisted the urge to glare at him. "We can address that when we actually _do_ get married," her tone was a little more snappish than usual, but at the same time her anxiety made her voice shake slightly. "The book I was reading was extremely interesting, and I don't feel like putting it down right now. You can ask your butler to accompany you on your hunt, I'm sure that Gumo wouldn't mind."

" _My_ butler is right now cleaning up the mess _you_ made," the prince's retort was just as impatient as hers. "It is the duty of the wife to accompany their husband if the lord requests for the lady's time. You ought to know that, having been raised with proper upbringing – or perhaps your education was not as perfect as I assumed, and I should ask the governesses to come tomorrow?" his words were cold, and when she dared to meet his gaze his blue eyes were frigid. She had never really seen him this way before, and it actually made her nervous. He had been entertaining, charming and teasing at the ball, and in the palace he was more distant, but it was the first time he actually seemed…

"All right," she whispered, disliking her own compliance – but she didn't want the governesses to come, and she was sure that the prince would really do what he threatened to do. His gaze and his grip on her wrist abruptly softened, and he smiled at her. She forced herself to smile back, though she felt anything but happy. She reminded herself that she had to put up with this until she felt safe enough to run away from the palace. Until then, she simply would have to tolerate his behaviour.

"See, that wasn't so bad," he exclaimed, tugging her out of the library. She glanced back at the table where she left her book, hoping that it would still be there when she returned and that the servants wouldn't come and place it back on the shelves while she was gone. It would be difficult to find the exact same book again since there were so many shelves in the library. "We'll only be gone for a few hours, then you can come back and continue reading if you want. I don't want to control what you do in your leisure time," he added, looking over his shoulder at her. There was a smile on his face.

She, on the other hand, didn't feel anywhere as pleased, but she knew that if she protested he might make her life difficult. She had enough problems now without having to deal with a group of tutors who thought they knew so much more than she did. "Why the sudden decision to go shooting?" she decided to ask. "You didn't say anything about it yesterday. I would have been better prepared if you warned me," she felt his grip on her hand tighten a little. Had her words somehow struck a nerve?

"Well, it was a last minute decision," he didn't look at her when he spoke. They were walking out to the backyard, where the stables were. "The letter I was sent last night…well, you'll see," he left it at that, and it was enough to make her curious. The possibility of seeing Utatane Piko again made her more willing to go along. Maybe there would be an opportunity for her to question him about the Order while the prince was not present. They went in silence to the stables, the prince never letting go of her hand, and the further they went from the palace the more nervous she became.

"You want me to leave the palace grounds looking like this?" she blurted out after stumbling on the hem of her long nightdress for the fifth time. It was not something she had thought about when he first announced that she had to accompany him, but it suddenly occurred to her that they would have to leave the privacy of the palace and face the public. She was not dressed appropriately for the public eye, and now she felt extremely uncomfortable about the whole idea. The prince paused at her words and slowly swivelled around to stare at her, blue eyes looking her up and down.

"True. I didn't think of that," he mused, his gaze flitting up to meet her own flustered one. "Well, it doesn't matter. We'll be alone most of the time, and anyway there's nothing in the palace for you to change into unless you want to wear a servant's uniform…no, I thought not," he added when she shook her head at the suggestion. "Just stay in this nightdress for now, and maybe tomorrow I'll take you to the marketplace so you can get fitted for new clothes," he sighed, continuing to walk. "But what happened to those dresses you wore to the ball? I just remembered that you did not bring them along with you when we left the Hatsune manor," he casually continued their conversation.

Miku swallowed. The thought of those dresses and the clear crystal shoes she left behind in the mansion made her heart ache, but it wasn't enough to persuade her to return to that place. At least, not so soon. "Leave them. You said you'll bring me to get fitted for new clothes, didn't you?" she answered, her tone lacking her usual intensity. Again, the prince's hand tightened briefly around hers but he didn't turn back to look, and they walked in silence all the way to the palace stables.

He only let go when they were right outside the cursed place. Miku wrinkled her nose, able to smell the hay and the musky scent of animals wafting out from the stables. "Stay here, I'll get Frost ready," the prince pushed open the low gate, then glanced back at her. "Don't try to run away because if you do, I won't forgive you that easily," he smiled again, but the humour didn't reach his eyes. "I really hate being inconvenienced…oh, but I don't think you'd want to run away from me anyway, would you?" she couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. Did he really think so highly of himself?

"I won't leave, _Your Highness_ ," her usual acid tone bubbled back up, and the prince blinked, startled. He regained his composure quickly though and went into the stables without another word. She waited, her hands placed primly before her as she tilted her head and stared up at the sky. It was a bright clear day today, a pretty azure expanse of sky without a single white cloud. It was a good day to be outside – perhaps it wasn't so bad, coming out for a while, even if she had to be in the prince's company. She had to ride a horse up to the palace before anyway, so surely she could ride again.

There was a low whinny and a snort, and she jumped aside at the warning sound – a few moments later, the prince came out from the stables, a familiar white mare following him closely. He was leading it by the reins, and Miku could swear that as Frost walked past her, the horse gave her a contemptuous look. She glared back at the beast and the mare looked away from her, almost disdainfully. But surely it couldn't really be experiencing such an emotion. It was just a horse!

"Come on, get on," the prince's voice broke into her thoughts and she looked around to see him gesturing impatiently at her. He had placed a saddle on Frost and was now waiting for her to approach him. She swallowed, eyeing the horse carefully – Frost ignored her and continued to graze on grass – and timidly went towards her fiancé. The prince grabbed hold of her hand and effortlessly hoisted her up so that she was seated sideways, more or less comfortably, on the saddle. "Hold on to the reins for me," he called, and she did as he said, feeling the leather against her skin. It was slightly cracked, but otherwise cool and smooth. The prince then placed a foot on one of the stirrups and pushed himself onto Frost too, right behind her on the saddle. She froze as the prince reached out towards her, taking hold of the reins. His arms were, in effect, wrapping around her.

Again it reminded her of what happened between them last night. She made sure to keep looking forward so that he wouldn't be able to see her face. Thankfully, the prince seemed more concerned with getting to his destination, and with a sharp tug of the reins Frost began to trot. The whole time, the prince held tightly on to the reins, and she kept her gaze fixed firmly ahead of her. The entire arrangement made her feel extremely uncomfortable. Was he being so close to her on purpose? As if riding on a horse had not been bad enough on its own…she closed her eyes and imagined that she was elsewhere, trying to ignore the gentle swaying as Frost carried them out of the palace grounds.


	18. Chapter 18

Her fears about being seen in public in her less-than-decent state seemed to be unfounded. The prince took a route through the backyard that led out to a riding course some distance behind the palace, and she took note of that – it may be an alternative exit from the main building, after all.

From the riding course, which was basically just a large circular track with white paint marking out individual lanes, it opened out into dense woodland beyond the tall fence surrounding the entire backyard. The prince was leading Frost towards those trees. Miku noticed there was a small gate, big enough for only one horse and its rider at a time, in the fence. Maybe she could use this way to escape from the palace in the future...though she wasn't so sure if she'd want to brave the woods alone. She'd wait until they rode through the place before she made a decision.

"The woods belong to the king. Only the royal family can hunt here," the prince spoke up, his voice sounding somewhere above her head. She stiffened, reminded of their proximity – she had just managed to put it to the back of her mind, and now she was unpleasantly reminded of the fact that he was practically embracing her. "Well, unless you have permission from the king. Anyway, there are guards in the woods whose only job is to shoot and kill trespassers, so I wouldn't recommend going out there alone without good reason," those words sounded almost like a threat. She glanced back at him, suspicious – did he find out, somehow, that she wanted to run away?

The prince simply cocked his head and gave her a quizzical look at her suspicious glare. "Keep your eyes on the road," he said sharply, tugging on the left rein as he did so – Frost abruptly turned in the same direction and Miku gasped as she nearly slipped off the horse. Hands flailing, she managed to clutch on to the edge of the saddle just in time, gritting her teeth as she heard the prince chuckle in amusement. Did he think that was funny? She resolved not to let go of the saddle from now on. It wouldn't surprise her if the prince pulled the same trick on her again.

They rode in silence. When they got to the gate, the prince smoothly descended and went over to the fence, flipping the locking mechanism and pushing the gate. Silently, it swung wide open, and she guessed the hinges were recently oiled. It had to be used quite frequently then. Did that mean there was usually a lot of people passing through?

The prince came back and took hold of the slackened reins, leading his horse through the opened gate. Miku clung on for dear life, feeling a lot less secure now that the prince wasn't behind her – their closeness may make her uncomfortable, but she couldn't deny that it was a lot more reassuring when there was an experienced rider sitting directly behind her. Once Frost was safely out of the backyard, the prince shut the gate and easily got back up on his horse. With that, they continued their journey, going deeper and deeper into the woodlands beyond.

They didn't talk as they travelled through the woods. It wasn't so dense that she couldn't see anything, and sunlight dappled the ground, creating pretty patterns on the grassy floor. It was quite lovely, but she couldn't appreciate it for the moment. She was just wondering about where they were headed. She didn't want to ask the prince though, since it seemed unlikely he would answer her question in a straightforward manner, so she held her tongue. She would find out the purpose of this trip when they reached their destination – though she already suspected that it had something to do with Utatane Piko.

Time passed, and she found herself getting drowsy. There was something remarkably lulling about just sitting on a horse like that, even if she didn't like the beasts. The swaying motion of the horse was pleasant enough once she got used to it. And the prince's arms around her, though she hated to admit it, were warm and comfortable – she felt quite certain that she wouldn't slide off even if she ended up falling asleep. Besides, she had woken up really early this morning…

No, she couldn't just doze off like that. She had to look around and observe her surroundings. She was still new to life in the palace, and if she wanted to make any headway with her plan to run away and explore other countries, then she would have to actively observe this area as much as possible since the woods could well be one of her escape routes. She shook her head a little, forcing herself to keep her eyes open. The dim light of the woods wasn't helping her situation very much, however.

"What's the matter?" the prince asked, sounding curious. She glanced back at him again, making sure to hold on tightly to the saddle this time. He actually looked a little concerned about her. He must have noticed it when she shook her head, and she wondered how she felt about him being so observant.

"Nothing. I'm just a little tired," she answered honestly. Maybe that would make him feel guilty about dragging her out on this expedition against her will...though she doubted that, honestly. The prince raised an eyebrow, giving her a long look. Then finally he sighed, looking almost resigned.

"Then I suppose there's nothing to it. I'll just have to lend you my shoulder to sleep on until we arrive at our destination," his gaze flicked upwards, taking note of the route ahead. "You're my fiancée, so I can't just let you suffer through this if you really need the rest," he looked back at her. She would have thought it was sweet of him if it wasn't for the small smile curving his lips. It looked devilish.

He must have an ulterior motive for being nice to her. "I'll find a way to keep myself awake, thank you very much," she hastened to say. "I do not want to inconvenience you while you're riding," she smiled as sweetly as she could, hoping he wouldn't insist. Right now, they were close enough as it was.

Thankfully, he didn't press the issue. "If you insist," his devilish smile widened, but after that they fell silent. Miku, jolted out of her sleepiness by that exchange, continued to look around as Frost trotted along the winding path. The woods were teeming with wildlife – she saw quite a few deer and rabbits, and she was certain she once spotted a flash of russet fur that looked like it might belong to a fox. Despite all these sights however, she had no idea when they were going to reach their destination.

Tiredness tugged at her consciousness, and after a while her eyelids were drooping again. Maybe it had not been a good idea to wake up so early this morning, but she was used to waking up at the crack of dawn since all servants were expected to do so. Her stepsisters didn't exactly allow her the privilege of sleeping in, even if she was a noble. When she woke up at five this morning, she made herself stay in bed and tried to drift back into unconsciousness, but she ended up waking again at half past seven. After that she simply couldn't sleep anymore, so she got up from bed and went about her business.

The prince must not have woken up too long ago. She didn't know what time it was now, but judging from the relative coolness of the air she figured it was still early morning, maybe around nine or ten. She hadn't managed to check the time before the prince pulled her out into the backyard with him. Miku could not remember how long hunting trips usually lasted since the last time she tagged along on one was when she was eight years' old, but she hoped that it wouldn't take too long. She would like to return to the palace as soon as possible to read, or if she was still tired by then, to take a quick nap.

* * *

She must have ended up dozing off anyway because she was roused by a gentle shaking. She blinked, struggling back into wakefulness, and found that she was leaning against the prince's chest. At this realisation she hastily sat upright, the shock making her wake up fully.

She heard him laugh. It was a soft sound, but it greatly flustered her. She hadn't wanted to accept the offer of his shoulder for her to rest on, but she ended up falling asleep on him anyway. "You must be really tired, so next time just don't get out of bed before I do," he mused. "I failed to mention this earlier, but you're supposed to always stay by my side, remember? That's the agreement we came to in exchange for sending the governesses away. I'll let this morning's incident slip for now, but don't leave my side without telling me first in the future," his voice was light and cheery, but she couldn't be sure if he was really just joking or not. She nodded stiffly in response, at the same time looking around the woods. They were in a small clearing, and Frost was placidly grazing on grass.

"Are you hunting here? Where is your rifle?" the prince slid off the horse as she spoke, and he extended a hand out towards her. She took his hand and he helped her down – she felt a wave of relief flood through her at the feeling of firm ground beneath her feet, and her knees buckled. The prince caught her just in time, and she stayed there for a few seconds as she tried to regain her balance. She didn't know just how long she had been riding on Frost, but she was glad to be on her own two feet again.

"Shotgun," he corrected her. "Rifles are usually for when you want to hunt big game like wild boar, but I didn't come out here to shoot today," he ignored her look of surprise. "So I don't need any gun. I'm just here to meet someone, then we can go back to the palace. I'm exhausted," he yawned, stretching.

"But...you said earlier that you were going hunting?" Miku questioned. Of course she was glad that the prince wasn't actually going to shoot anything – she thought it would be an unnerving experience to see such a thing first-hand, and she did not want to personally witness the killing of wildlife – but he had definitely told her that he was going hunting before he dragged her out of the library. The prince tilted his head, looking faintly surprised. What, had he already forgotten about what he said to her?

"Did I?" he asked. "Oh, I must have misspoken. My companion is the one who wants to hunt, and he needs my explicit permission otherwise our guards have permission to shoot on sight. That's all," the prince grinned, leading Frost over to a nearby tree and tying the horse to the trunk. The mare did not seem particularly concerned about being tethered. "Personally, I dislike hunting. It always causes such a ruckus...and anyway, I don't see a need for me to kill wildlife. The other nobles do so often enough," he lovingly stroked Frost's white mane. "I have better things I can do with my time. Being the prince of Ossyria doesn't leave much leisure time anyway. Soon enough, you'll be caught up in work too."

She didn't like the gleam in his eyes. Of course, she hadn't thought that she wouldn't have to do any work since she would be married to the prince, but he didn't have to phrase it in such an ominous manner. "I know. I'll do my best," she answered. At least, she would for the short amount of time she would be spending here. Miku did not intend to stay here for longer than a few months, at most.

"We'll see whether your best is up to par. Honestly, right now I can send away the governesses, but if the king finds your performance unsatisfactory when he returns there is very little I can do for you," the prince let go of Frost, walking towards the edge of the clearing. He glanced back when she failed to follow him. "We'll be going deeper into the woods together, just you and I. A romantic little walk through the trees – what do you think of that?" he smiled, holding his hand out towards her again.

"I think we should just quickly find whoever you're supposed to meet so we can return to the palace as soon as possible," she responded flatly, taking hold of his hand nevertheless. It would be nice to have some extra support as she tried to navigate through the woods in this cumbersome, too-long nightdress. The long sleeves were making her itch again. The prince simply looked amused, which she found extremely irritating – why did he find so much entertainment at her expense? Was everything she said or did really that strange to him? "Who are we meeting, anyway?" she wanted to be certain.

"Now that's a secret. You'll know when we get there," the prince led the way forward, slipping easily between a gap in the trees. She tried to do the same thing, cursing quietly to herself when her long sleeve got caught on one of the branches. Carefully, she tugged it free, making sure not to rip the cotton. "Besides, given that Gumi already mentioned who the sender of the letter was last night, I don't think you should have to guess who we're meeting," he added. She knew that, she just wanted confirmation.

"The Viscount of Lexane?" she asked, lifting her skirt as the prince stepped over a small stream. They passed by a group of foxes, which watched them for a few seconds before scampering away into the undergrowth. She looked at the trembling bushes, trying to see even the smallest glimpse of russet fur. She personally thought that foxes were cute. "What does he have to say now that he couldn't talk to you about at the ball?" she wondered aloud. After all, the Viscount had been there all three nights.

"It was hard for _anyone_ to talk to me at the ball. I was with you most of the time, remember?" the prince's reply was droll. "Anyway, I wouldn't know how Piko thinks. He is two years my senior and I was assigned to be his underling, which is how we are familiar with each other, but…to tell the truth I've never really understood what's going through his head. He listens so much to his father that I sometimes wonder if I know the real Piko at all, or whether the person I'm speaking with is a mere reflection of the Marquis," it was the most the prince had ever divulged to her about anyone at one go, and she listened, interested in the topic. The prince continued. "He has quite a fascination with the past, and he always seemed to be living in his memories, somehow. Maybe that's why we get along," suddenly, the prince's voice turned bitter. "You know the saying, after all. Birds of a feather flock together and whatnot."

 _Living in his memories_ …was the prince referring to how he couldn't get over his fiancée? He didn't need to say it explicitly for Miku to understand that he was still stuck in his past because of that. She decided to change the subject – she didn't want to talk about something so sensitive. "Do you meet with the Viscount very often?" she asked, wondering how close the two of them really were. The prince glanced back at her, his expression moody. They were walking down a very narrow path now, fenced in by tall trees on either side, and she was beginning to feel slightly claustrophobic. She would have to stick close to the prince at all times – she had no doubt that she wouldn't be able to find her way back by herself.

"Not particularly. In fact, the past three nights at the ball were the first time I have spoken face-to-face with him in a long, long time. Usually we exchange letters if we really have anything to say to each other. I do not really keep in contact with people who knew me from…before," he hesitated before saying. "Anyway, Piko and I do not often have a chance to meet. He is usually travelling with his father, or he is busy with the family business while his father goes on expeditions by himself. He is a busy man who has little time for himself. He probably wouldn't have attended the ball if I wasn't the prince."

"He does seem like someone who has little time for himself," Miku agreed, thinking over her interaction with the Viscount. Even when he spoke to her, there was a sense of…detachment there, as though part of his mind was thinking about other things. "What is his family business?" she asked, just curious. The prince did say just now that the Viscount ran the family business while his father was travelling. Maybe Utatane Piko was always so distracted because he was thinking of work. She couldn't imagine having to helm such an operation so young, but she also knew that this was actually common practice. Her own father had to take over the family business when he was eighteen years old…not that his leadership continued for long due to his untimely death. But other traders usually started off at young ages as well.

"Fishing," the prince answered, sounding uninterested. "The state of Archex is near the Arkarian Sea, so they have plenty of fish all year round. Of course they also get by through taxes, since Archex is one of the bigger Ossyrian states," he suddenly stopped walking, looking around as though expecting someone. Miku looked around as well, more hesitantly than her fiancé. They were still walking down the narrow path, though it was beginning to open up a little. She couldn't see anything besides trees and birds. "I'm quite sure he asked to meet around here," the prince muttered to himself. "So where could he be? I hope he didn't wander off by himself…it would spell trouble if any of the woodland guards found him."

"Do you actually have people guarding this place every day?" Miku asked, wanting to know. Finding out more information about the guards here would only aid her escape. He nodded absentmindedly, still looking out for his guest, and Miku began wondering about the likelihood of getting caught if she tried to sneak out here at night. How many guards were there, and did they guard the woods at every hour or just in the daytime? Before she could ask though, the prince suddenly whipped around, looking directly at her. His blue eyes were staring at her – no, not at her, right through her. He was frowning.

"Senior, I know you're out there. Please stop chasing after deer or whatever you're hunting now and come here, you'll be in trouble if you're caught by a guard without me," he called out, his voice ringing through the trees – the leaves and foliage swallowed up the sound though, so she didn't think his voice got very far. The silence that fell afterwards was almost deafening. Had the Viscount heard the prince? He saw her questioning look. "Oh, he'll come. He's not very far away – if you keep quiet and listen, you can hear a whole lot of rustling over there," the prince lowered his voice, pointing towards their left.

She closed her eyes and listened, and sure enough after a while she thought she could hear movement, and a whole lot of it at that. She nodded, opening her eyes, and right at that very moment a chestnut horse burst out of the undergrowth, its rider wearing a hunting cap with a gun slung across his back. The Viscount expertly guided the horse to a stop, stroking the horse's heaving flank while murmuring a few words before turning around to look at the prince. He looked rather surprised to see Miku there too.

"Having fun, trekking through the woods?" Piko asked, his voice as even as she remembered. Come to think of it, the Viscount was a very neutral man. Granted that they did not know each other for long, but she had yet to see him raise his voice even once. The prince looked up at the Viscount, but since he was standing in front of her she couldn't see what expression he was wearing. Nevertheless, Piko smiled. It was a small smile, but a smile nevertheless – who knew that the Viscount could actually feel emotion?

"Less fun than you, I assume," Prince Romeo said blithely. "Storming through royal property without a care in the world. You may be the son of a marquis, but that does not give you the right to hunt here without my permission. You're lucky that I got here before the guards did," he cautioned. The Viscount simply grinned and got off his horse, landing gracefully on his feet. The chestnut stallion seemed to be looking right at Miku as though it could sense her dislike of horses, and she shifted a little so that she was hiding behind the prince. Why were the beasts so perceptive? Couldn't they just leave her alone?

"Well, I knew you were nearby, which was why I dared to do so," Piko began to lead his horse by the reins, the prince falling into step beside him. Miku hurried along, not wanting to be left behind in the woods. The stallion snorted and jerked its head as the two nobles walked ahead of it, making Miku flinch back. She really didn't like horses. Frost didn't seem so bad in comparison to Piko's steed – at least the white mare was patient and rather even-tempered. This stallion seemed to be constantly on edge.

"The world does not work based on assumptions," the prince lectured. "You may be my senior, but the guards do not know that. Anyway, aren't you remarkably confident, sending a letter so late and asking me to meet the very next day? I might have had something planned in the morning – then you would have made the trip to the royal woods for nothing," he continued. Miku just listened to the two of them talking, looking around the woods though always keeping one eye on the Viscount's irritable horse. She wondered where the woods would lead – what lay on the other side if it began in the palace grounds?

"Ah, but I know you have nothing planned today. I asked your butler for your schedule on the second night of the ball, while you were busy entertaining your fiancée," Piko glanced back at her when he said this, and she stiffened, catching his eye. Those unique, dual-coloured eyes regarded her coolly, and his expression never betrayed what he was thinking. He did not look at her for long. "He informed me that you have nothing planned for the day following the ball, so I took advantage of that. Besides, you and I both know that I rarely visit Temane. I'm only here for your birthday celebration, that's all," he sighed.

The prince nodded. "Then why did you ask me to come here today?" he asked. "Your letter was brief and…well, if it weren't for the fact that you were my senior in Easton, I wouldn't have bothered to meet you. Coming out here didn't appear to benefit me at all, but since I know you're a busy man then this ought to be more than just a friendly meeting?" the narrow path was beginning to open up, and she was thankful to be out of the claustrophobic space. The horse's brown tail swished before her and she paused, retreating from the beast. Then she gathered her senses and hurried forward, catching up with the other two. She didn't want to miss out on what the prince and the viscount were discussing.

"No, it's not just for pleasure. But I'm not sure if I am allowed to talk about state affairs in front of your fiancée?" Piko said bluntly. Miku didn't know how to feel about this – on one hand, she knew that their secrets may be important, but on the other hand he sounded so uninterested in her that it bordered on offensive. The prince shot her a look, and she noticed the glint of humour that flashed through his eyes. He'd better not be trying to exclude her, not after dragging her to the woods just for this one meeting.

"Oh, you can talk freely. She is my bride, after all. She will have to start handling state affairs soon enough – though you might want to explain everything thoroughly so that she will understand, it will be her first time hearing about such matters after all," the prince closed his eyes briefly, tilting his face up towards the sun as they walked through a particularly bright patch of sunlight. Miku was momentarily distracted by the sight of the golden rays caressing the prince's face – he had always been handsome, but in the sunlight he looked beautiful. His flaxen hair reflected the light, giving it the illusion that it glowed.

Then hastily she looked away. The last thing she wanted was to be caught ogling the prince – she neither wanted to explicitly acknowledge his good looks nor did she want to actually start noticing them. It was bad enough trying to live with the prince without admitting that he was handsome. "Very well, if you give me your permission," Piko's voice thankfully broke into her fretful thoughts. "Recently, as you may know given the reports from Veracent traders, there has been unrest among the citizens. Rumours say that the military presence in Veracent is considering staging a coup to replace the king, as anti-Ossyria sentiment grows ever higher. The main reason for this mind-set, of course, would be the rise in price of Ossyrian exports – but naturally we have followed the rules of our trade agreement. If the coup really goes through and the king is overthrown…the leader of the movement is said to be particularly hostile towards our country. If we lower the price of our exports however, we will displease our own people."

They were talking about business. Miku had honestly expected something more interesting because of all the secrecy, but her attention was already beginning to wane. The prince didn't say anything for a while, probably thinking over the problem, and she continued to look around the woods, trying to resist the urge to yawn. She ought to have insisted on staying in the library. This was all dreadfully dull.

"What do you think, Cinderella? You're from Veracent, are you not?" the prince suddenly addressed her, looking back at her with a contemplative look on his face. She jumped at the sound of her nickname, not having expected to be called upon. For once, the prince looked remarkably serious. "Did you hear anything about the coup while you were in Veracent? You came over to Ossyria but recently, no?" he asked. Miku panicked. She didn't know anything about Veracent besides the fact that the military had a strong presence there, and that they had much fewer natural resources compared to Ossyria itself.

"I didn't hear much about the coup since I came to Ossyria a year ago, actually," she hastily said. "And from what I understand the disturbance was fairly recent, right? So I don't think I know much about what's going on in Veracent. My mother hasn't sent me any letters in a while," she fibbed, hoping that they wouldn't ask her any questions after that. Thankfully, the two of them seemed to buy her excuse and went back to talking to each other, now about the possible consequences of the military coup and what the country should do in case they had to minimise trade. Miku let out a quiet sigh of relief.

"If the main problem is the fishing industry, then just stop increasing the prices," the prince was now saying to the viscount. "I don't know what your father is doing, honestly. It's the fifth time he has raised the price of fish this year; it'd be more surprising if people are willing to accept the inflation. You aren't supportive of his actions, are you, Piko?" the prince asked. It was truly rather strange to see the prince talking about serious economic matters like this. She had never seen him actually doing work before, so she was surprised to see that he had a serious side. He was more mature than she thought.

"Well, I don't exactly support his actions, but…he's the one who's in charge of the business. I'm only the stand in while he's travelling now," the viscount sighed, shaking his head. "It wouldn't be a problem if the other fisheries in Ossyria were pulling their weight, but this year the seas have warmed up some and it's resulting in less fish being caught than usual. Only the Arkarian Sea didn't seem to be affected by the warm currents," he sighed again. "But that's not the main issue. My father was the one who asked me to meet you, and it's about something besides the bleak political situation at the moment. The gift that he gave you for your coming-of-age – did you use it yet?" Piko asked, giving Miku a look as he spoke.

She perked up at the mention of a gift. Now this seemed more interesting than warfare and politics. The prince blinked when Piko spoke about a present, and she could practically see his confusion. "I really do appreciate your father's gift, but…to use it? How? I was under the impression that it was an ornament. My father had it placed in the treasury. It's a beautiful crystalline sculpture, but I don't see how it has any use besides a decorative one," he tilted his head. They had walked all the way back to the clearing they first departed from, and Miku could see Frost on the other side of the clearing, still grazing on grass peacefully. The mare suddenly looked up and flicked its ears back when it saw Piko's chestnut stallion.

"It's more than just a sculpture – my father searched a long time for it. He even asked me to pass on this message personally, since he was afraid that it would be intercepted should we send a letter," Piko leant towards the prince and whispered something in his ear, while Miku looked on and wondered what they were talking about. When Piko was done whispering, he leant away from Prince Romeo, whom she saw was wearing a confused look on his face. "Just take note of what I said even if you don't necessarily understand its meaning now. My father said that it will be important on the day you come to realise what that sculpture is for," Piko did not bother hiding his words this time, letting her hear everything.

The prince slowly nodded. "All right, I'll keep that in mind. Though for now I still think the issue of the fish and Veracent is more important," he shook his head. "I do not want there to be any strains in our economic ties. The future is important for me, since the period where I sit on the throne comes in the future, not now," his smile was wry. "When you're done entertaining yourself in the royal hunting grounds, write a report on your taxes and interstate transactions and send it to me via courier. My butler will receive it, and I'll look through the report and request for adjustments in your tax returns accordingly. That might help ease up on the inflation," the prince sighed irritably. "So much to do, and so little time…" he murmured. For some reason, as he said that, he turned around to look at her.

The Viscount looked at her too, much to her discomfort, but the silver haired man didn't say anything involving her. "Thank you for your assistance, Your Highness," Piko bowed quickly towards the prince, addressing him as royalty rather than as a junior from school. "I hope that you will be able to settle the problems with the fishing industry swiftly. The people of Veracent complain about the price of exports, but little do they know that local demand already far outstrips supply…" Piko muttered to himself. The prince gave him a small nod of acknowledgement before reaching into his coat and pulling out a golden badge, which Piko took. Miku squinted at the badge as it exchanged hands, and noted that the badge was in the shape of the royal family's crest, framed by thee small stars. "And should I mail this badge back along with the tax report too?" Piko asked, holding it up so that the gold glinted in the sunlight.

"Yes, you can do that, or just pass it to any one of the guards you encounter on your way back. It'll be returned to me," the prince said dismissively. "Have fun hunting, Viscount. My fiancée and I will be on our way back to the palace now. It was a joy speaking with you," the prince swept past the Viscount, heading towards his tethered mare. Frost was still watching Piko's horse. Miku made to follow, but as she walked past Piko the viscount's hand suddenly shot out and grabbed her wrist. She gasped in surprise, coming to a stop beside the viscount. The prince was busy untying Frost and had not seen her.

"Remember, don't say a single word about what I asked you about the day before," the Viscount leant over and whispered in her ear, his warm breath washing against her skin. She shivered at their proximity, unsure if she was unnerved or just unused to male nearness, and nodded. He released her at that, and though she wanted to stay there a while longer to ask him about the Order of Bethlehem, the prince turned at that moment and called out to her. She hurried to her fiancé, who was waiting for her with Frost, and only looked back at the Viscount when she was safely on the mare's back. But by the time she lifted her gaze to where the Viscount had been standing, the silver haired man was already gone.


	19. Chapter 19

"Let's go to town," Romeo's voice startled her and she almost dropped the pastry she was holding. Miku was feeling a little hungry after they returned to the palace, so she went to the kitchen – it was one of the few places she could actually remember how to get to – and asked for a small snack.

Gumi and Gumo were not present in the kitchen at that moment but one of the palace chefs was and he gave her a small tart leftover from this morning's breakfast. She thanked him and was told that if she wanted food in the future, she simply had to ask one of the servants to get it for her – the kitchen was no place for the prince's fiancée. She was quickly ushered out of the basement, so she found herself wandering around the palace, eating her tart as she did so. Then the prince popped up behind her and nearly scared the living daylights out of her. She hadn't even heard him coming.

"Now?" she asked, cleaning a few crumbs off her lips. She glanced out of the window – it was noon now, and the sun was at its highest point. "What for?" she turned to face the prince. Romeo had a faint smile on his face, one hand placed on his hip, the other gripping the hilt of the sword that hung from his waist. She glanced at the weapon. The sheath was beautiful, encrusted with precious jewels and stones. Did the prince actually use this sword to fight? It seemed like such a waste of good art…

"To get you fitted for new dresses, of course," Romeo answered blithely. "I know I said I'd take you to a seamstress tomorrow, but I was just informed that I have to investigate some tax returns with the treasurer…apparently a few of them look suspicious. So it's most likely that I won't have time tomorrow to accompany you. Of course we could always get a tailor to come to the palace, but I think it would be better to go to a shop and see if they have anything already made which you can wear for now. We can talk about custom-made dresses when you actually have something suitable for the public eye," his gaze went over her nightdress. For some reason, she felt mildly insulted.

"I could go alone, or with Gumi and Gumo," she decided not to dwell too long on which part of his words had annoyed her since well…his words actually did make sense. Romeo gave her a careful look and she tried not to fidget – somehow she felt like he was trying to look into her mind.

"They're busy cleaning up your mess, if I may remind you," he retorted. "And besides that, why do you seem so reluctant to spend time with me? You are _supposed_ to stay by my side at all times, you agreed to that, don't you remember? Or do you prefer the company of the servants to your own fiancé, Cinderella?" he stepped closer to her, holding her gaze. His expression was unreadable.

"You're the prince. It would be strange for you to be seen shopping at the market, even if it's for me," she thought she did a good job of sounding respectful. "Wouldn't want tongues to wag now, would we?" she couldn't help adding, a small, self-satisfied smile curving her lips. The prince just stared at her for a while, as though thinking over her words. They both knew that someone as high-ranking as the prince couldn't exactly be spotted out and about among commoners. It was simply unheard of, and if the prince was seen in the market the nobles would definitely say something.

"Let them say what they want," he finally answered, sounding dismissive. "It's not as though I care particularly much for rumour and hearsay. Why, do you mind, Cinderella?" he smiled. It was a rather knowing smile and she was reminded of the many rumours which surrounded her, the stories that she made up in order to conceal her identity. Life would be easier if he wasn't so suspicious of her, but on the bright side she was out of the mansion. That had been her very first goal anyway.

"If you do not care for the opinion of the masses then neither do I," she inclined her head, looking down so that he wouldn't see the brief scowl that crossed her face. She had been hoping to have some free time so she could explore the palace a little more, but the prince had ruined her plans. She couldn't think of a good excuse to get herself out of this either, since…well, she didn't exactly have anything better to do, and the prince was most likely aware of that fact as well.

"Good. Then let's go," the prince turned and walked off, clearly expecting her to follow him. She briefly contemplated running in the opposite direction but decided against rebelling and went off after him, silently cursing the length of her nightdress as she nearly tripped over the hem once again. Maybe going to town now to get new clothes wasn't a bad idea. Miku was almost starting to miss her servant's uniform – shabby it may be, but at least it fit her properly. She felt like she was swaddled up in a giant towel. But of course, this was still preferable to the other nightdress…

Hopefully they would not be taking the prince's cursed horse again. She swore that mare actually disliked her. The feelings were mutual, however. Someone who liked horses couldn't possibly be honest – she eyed the prince as he whistled merrily, one hand still on the hilt of his sword, and decided that Romeo was definitely up to no good. He was clearly happy about something, and that didn't bode well.

* * *

Of course they had to ride on Frost. It had been stupid to wish for anything else. She closed her eyes and hoped that they would get to town quickly as the mare began to trot downwards, towards the noble townhouses. They still had to get past the whole stretch of aristocracy before they got to the market, which lay some distance beyond noble territory. It also meant that curious gazes would be upon them, and she was slightly nervous about that. This was hardly anything compared to the ball, but at the ball there was the comfort of anonymity. Here, her face and her identity were exposed.

Prince Romeo still seemed to be in a fairly upbeat mood, though they didn't chat or anything when they left the palace. The rocking motion of Frost beneath her was making her feel slightly nauseated, but since she did ride on Frost this morning it wasn't too bad this time. Speaking of this morning, she had to wonder what the Viscount told the prince after all that talk about Veracent and the military coup. It was about the present his father gave the prince for his birthday, right? Romeo didn't seem to view the present as particularly important, so maybe he would tell her something if she asked.

That was _if_ she asked. She wasn't really in the mood to talk to the prince right now. Though if she was being entirely honest, she was never in the mood to talk to him. They were almost at the bottom of the gentle slope, and the first few townhouses were coming into view. She knew that eventually they would pass by her old home, and she tightened her grip on the saddle in anticipation of that. She didn't know how she felt about seeing the mansion from the outside, no more a prisoner of those four walls, no longer having to answer to her stepsisters. Of course it was exhilarating to know that she was free from them now, but…in the end, that mansion had still once been her home.

She would get it back. When she had her fun, when all her adventure was over and she decided it was time to return to Ossyria, she would find a way to reclaim her rights. Maybe her stepmother wouldn't be alive anymore by then and the stepsisters would be cast out onto the streets. That would make her task a lot easier than having to fight with her stepfamily over the Hatsune land and inheritance. Actually, come to think of it she didn't really know how old her stepmother was. She had a timeless look to her – Miku couldn't give her a precise age, but guessed that the woman was in her late thirties. It would be logical, since she knew that Anastasia was the same age as her.

She didn't know whose houses they were passing by now since she never left the manor before this, but she could spot her own former home a few yards down and the Shion family mansion, further down the road. Her grip on the saddle tightened even more, so much that it began to hurt her fingers. Was she scared, or was she excited? "Oh, yes – that's where you used to live, isn't it?" the prince suddenly spoke, sounding thoughtful. She glanced around at him and saw that he was gazing into the distance, in the direction of the Hatsune mansion. "I never thought that when I first met you outside of the palace, it would have been in…such a state," he added. She kept quiet at that.

It had been a bad start. Maybe the prince would not have been so suspicious of her if she had not been locked up in the cellar when he found her. She was already aware, of course, that he was questioning her about her background on the third night of the ball, but her confinement must have further cemented his doubts. Oh well, it wasn't as though she could do anything to change that now. What was done was done – she just had to think of a way to shake off his suspicions then. She was never a very good long-term planner, but she could at least think ahead enough to avoid his questioning.

"No one would have thought that of an aristocrat," she answered, looking towards her old home as well. "There's not much one can do when your two cousins dislike you, and your aunt is powerless against them," she added. "After all, I'm just a foreigner in Ossyria. My cousins knew that, and they used that against me. I'm glad that I'm not there anymore," she exhaled. Her words were genuine.

"Did you want to marry someone at the ball so that you could escape from the mansion?" he asked. She blinked – he was really surprisingly astute. She wasn't sure whether she should admit that was the truth, or continue to insist that it was because her mother and aunt wanted her to marry someone of noble descent. If she admitted the truth, then who knew what else the prince might guess about her?

She really had no idea what he suspected her of, but it was best not to give him any ideas. "No, of course not," she laughed airily. "My cousins…all they ever did was lock me in the cellar. No harm intended, though of course we shared a mutual dislike of each other. They couldn't wait for me to leave the mansion since they viewed me as a hindrance, but I didn't want to marry just because of them," she explained. The prince didn't say anything for a while, and she hoped that he would believe her. It was true – when he found her, she had only been locked in the cellar. There was no sign of any physical abuse, and she wouldn't say a single thing about the constant insults and putdowns she faced.

"It must have been hard, living with such relatives," he finally spoke as they trotted past the Hatsune manor, Miku glancing discreetly at the place as they passed by. The curtains were drawn, and the house seemed eerily silent, as though there was no one living there. The mansion was nothing more than a ghost, the remains of a legacy which once flourished and commanded respect. She felt a pang of sadness for what had been lost – but no, it wasn't her fault. She would definitely fix the situation.

"It was tolerable. They got on my nerves at times, but it was nothing I couldn't handle," she said dismissively. She let out a quiet sigh of relief when they were past the mansion – it was too soon for her to bump into her stepsisters, so she was glad they weren't preparing to go out of the house right then. "And that's the Shion household there, in the distance…" she added, looking straight ahead. The Shion family lived fairly nearby, and the thought of running into Lord Shion was almost as mortifying as bumping into her stepsisters. She hoped they would go a little faster, to avoid any awkward situations.

"Oh, I'm aware of that," the prince answered gaily. "In fact, I was wondering if we should drop by to pay him a little visit. It's a great honour, you know – to have the prince coming by for leisure rather than business. Most nobles would fall over themselves to welcome me into their houses," he mused. Miku's eyes widened – surely he jested. "The Shion family must still be staying here. It has only been two days since the ball, so I doubt that they have returned to their state yet…we should greet them."

"What are you _doing_?" she hissed when he started to steer Frost towards the Shion household. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She really didn't know how to face Lord Shion after that rejection on the third night of the ball. The prince must have planned this all along – that must be why he was so excited about going out of the palace! The evil little _worm_. "Lord Shion must not be feeling well after what happened at the ball. It would be rude to bother him, even if you are the royal prince."

"Oh, Cinderella. Your concern for the welfare of other people touches my heart," she could actually feel him rolling his eyes. "Why do you not seem to care as much about me? Let us just drop by and pay him a visit. His family will gladly welcome me, anyway," the prince continued heading towards Lord Shion's mansion despite her protests, and a few moments later they were right outside the gated front garden. She still continued trying to dissuade him, though she knew that it was futile by this point. The prince had a huge smile on his face – he was clearly enjoying himself, the spoilt jerk.

Did he have no sense of empathy? She gritted her teeth and considered slipping away while the prince stood outside the gate, tugging on the short rope which dangled from the golden front bell. As though he could sense her intentions, his arm shot out and his fingers latched around her wrist, holding tightly on to her. She tried to pull away, but he effortlessly tugged her towards him and wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her against his side. She could see the front door opening as he continued to incessantly ring the bell, and her heart dropped all the way to her stomach.

"Can we please go?" she whispered, still trying to squirm free. "This is a terrible thing to do. As if it is not bad enough that he was rejected in front of everyone at the ball, especially after breaking off his engagement to my cousin – Prince Romeo!" she snapped when he continued to ignore her, looking at who was coming towards the gate. The woman, dressed in the simple garb of a maid, did a double take when she saw who it was. Pausing for a moment, she suddenly hurried forward and opened the gate, curtseying deeply all the while. The prince bade the maid rise, paying no attention to Miku.

"I'm here to visit your master," the prince explained. "Tell him that I'm here, and that we're likely to be staying for a while. Don't pay my fiancée any mind," he added when the maid glanced curiously at Miku, who was still trying to pull away from the prince and run back to Frost. Right now, even the mare was a better option than facing Lord Shion. The maid nodded, a slightly confused look on her face as she observed them, before curtseying once more and heading back towards the mansion.

"What kind of game are you playing?" she pushed her hair away from her face, glaring up at the prince. She hadn't even bothered to tie up her hair today since she thought they were going straight to the seamstress, and she was still dressed in this potato sack of a nightdress – she was hardly in a state to meet anyone at all, much less Lord Shion. The prince had obviously set this up so that she would be embarrassed beyond belief. The prince turned towards her, blinking innocently.

"I don't understand what you mean by that," he smiled. "It's no game, I simply wish to send Lord Shion my greetings. He was a delightful guest at the ball and I really should acknowledge that. He was really such a gentleman, wasn't he?" his voice lilted. Miku scowled. The prince was obviously enjoying himself. She was quite tempted to stomp on his foot in an attempt to make him release her, but before she could actually go ahead with her plan the mansion doors opened again and this time, the navy haired son of the Shion family came out into the front garden, looking curious.

"Your Highness!" he exclaimed when he spotted Len, hurrying over towards the open gate. Miku and the prince were still waiting outside. "The maid should have asked you to follow her in – how could you be made to stand here, waiting like that? And…oh…" his gaze shifted towards Miku and she saw his face fall, just a little bit. She stopped fidgeting and stood there, staring right back at the young nobleman. There was sadness on his face, but then he cleared his throat and his expression lifted. "Lady Kamui, you are as stunning as ever," he declared, bowing towards her. "I suppose that I ought to address you as Your Highness now too. To what do we owe the pleasure?" he asked politely.

"Oh, it's nothing much," the prince sounded jovial. She couldn't believe that he could stand here and talk as though nothing at all had ever happened between them. He was definitely doing this just to see her reaction to this encounter – but if he wanted to watch her get flustered, then he was going to be sorely disappointed. "We were passing through on the way to the marketplace and I thought it would be nice to pay you a visit, assuming your family had yet to return to Chalice. I suppose it is my good fortune that you have not!" he laughed. Miku wanted to slap the prince. He was so… _rude_. She wanted to say something about how it hadn't been her idea to visit the Shion household, but she also realised that it wouldn't sound polite to say that either, so in the end she just held her tongue.

Lord Shion's smile seemed a little forced. "Yes, indeed it is our good fortune," he replied. His words were a little stiff too. She could tell that he was rather unhappy about being here, but he couldn't make that obvious since he was talking to the prince, and no one in the country dared to offend the Crown Prince of Ossyria. It was a fact that Prince Romeo knew well, and he was currently rubbing it right in Lord Shion's face. How despicable. "Would you like to come in for some tea? My mother would be overjoyed. We are leaving for Chalice in two days, so…if you wish, Your Highness?"

The prince shook his head. "No, no. We must continue on to the market. As you can see," he let out a longsuffering sigh and tugged on Miku's waist, dragging her closer to him – she gritted her teeth and tried to resist the force of his action, but he was too strong for her – so that she was nestled against his side, "my new bride has run out of clothes to wear so we are in urgent need of more. It is too urgent, in fact, to even summon a tailor. We must have dresses now. She would be absolutely stunning in proper clothes; don't you agree?" he asked. Miku frowned. What was he up to now?

"Yes, that is true," Lord Shion sounded like he was gritting the words out from between clenched teeth. "Nevertheless, Your Highness, you are beautiful no matter what you wear," he addressed her directly, his blue eyes looking right into hers. His face was carefully blank now, lacking any hint of the sadness she saw in his expression just moments ago. "I will never forget how you looked like at the ball – like an angel come down from the heavens above, gracing us with your presence."

The prince coughed. "Such flattery will only serve to inflate her ego, so we shall have no more of that. Come, we must leave now," he bade farewell to Lord Shion and she quietly did the same. The young noble nodded, bowing in response as she and the prince turned and walked back towards Frost, who was patiently waiting for the prince to finish his conversation. Miku felt rather unsettled by the entire exchange. Lord Shion was obviously uncomfortable about seeing her again so soon after she rejected his proposal – she knew that the prince wasn't oblivious to that discomfort, so why had he insisted on talking to the nobleman? Out of some sick, perverse sense of humour? How disturbing.

The prince helped her onto Frost before mounting the mare himself. Miku glanced at the Shion manor to see what Lord Shion was doing, and saw him quietly locking the gate and heading back towards the mansion. She didn't know how she felt about this entire situation. She felt bad for him, and she felt slightly guilty about turning him down as well, but she absolutely had to marry the prince – there couldn't have been any alternative, since the only one with the authority to overrule the Hatsune family was either the royal family, or the combined wills of the Founding Four.

It was ridiculous, how much influence the Founding Families had in Ossyria. The Heads of the Four Founding families made up a Council that advised the king of Ossyria, who had the absolute last say on anything that happened in the country. If her stepsisters had objected to her marriage to any noble, they would have gotten their way since marriage technically required the consent of an official guardian unless she had already been married before – which, of course, did not apply to her case. A stupid law, but a law of the country nevertheless. She was glad that she remembered that particular rule before she set out on her plan to seduce the prince at the ball. She wasn't sure if her stepsisters were aware of this law, but just to be safe it was better to get the prince's attention. Marrying one of the members of the royal family was the only exception to this law, after all.

"Was that your idea of good fun?" she asked crossly when Frost continued on her way, leaving the Shion mansion. The prince looked hurt, but she was certain that he was just pretending. "I do not know what you intended to get out of that exchange, since your visit was so short. Surely you were not oblivious to Lord Shion's feelings. Why must you treat another person in such a blasé manner?"

"I just wanted to let him know that you are my fiancée now," the prince answered, his tone still light and jovial. She couldn't believe the nerve of him. "I am aware that he already knows, of course – but I'd just like to reinforce this bit of knowledge. You are quite a beauty, Cinderella," a small smile curved his lips, "and I'd hate it if anyone tried to get in the way of our engagement, wouldn't you?"

She blinked. "You're just here to gloat, aren't you?" she realised. The prince shrugged, a very slight movement of his shoulders, but that small smile remained on his face. "Why? What do you have against the Shion family?" she asked, unsure if she ought to be curious or just offended that he was using her in his personal vendetta. The prince exhaled through his nose, giving her a steady look. Her hands were holding tightly on to Frost's saddle, but for that very moment she forgot she was riding on a horse.

"It's not that I have anything personal against him," he drawled, "I am just…interested to see how certain people react to stimuli. Kaito is so different from me – a true stickler for the rules, he is. I thought that bringing the girl he fell in love with to see him might provoke some kind of reaction, something different from his usual predictable behaviour, but apparently it wasn't enough to make him respond in an exciting manner. So there wasn't any need for us to go in and chat with his family. I don't particularly like visiting nobles and listening to their gossip," he yawned. "Do you have any more questions for me?"

Miku still didn't know how to feel about this. "You don't seem like the kind to be so…manipulative," she observed, taking great care of what she said. She knew he was intelligent, and he had been trying to provoke her nonstop ever since he brought her to the palace, but she didn't think that he was so – well, it was hard to describe this kind of behaviour. Playful was too light a word to use, but she didn't want to go all the way and call him outright cruel. Prince Romeo looked thoughtfully at her.

"I wouldn't say that I'm manipulative. I'm just awfully bored, you see," his gaze flicked up, observing the road before them. "Soon you'll know what the life of royalty is like, and you'll understand. It's funny, how people grovel before you when you're in a position of power. I never asked to be here, you know," his blue eyes slanted back to her and he held her gaze for a while. She raised her chin slightly, a tiny gesture of defiance. He smiled, but the gesture seemed empty. "After my father passes away, I'll become the king of this entire country. Then it'll be my turn to rule, so it's best for me to find out what the aristocrats of my kingdom are really like, don't you agree?" he mused.

"By subjecting them to little experiments like just now?" she retorted. The prince chuckled and nodded, and her lip curled slightly in disdain. She didn't approve of this method of entertainment – it seemed too personal, too uncaring of the other person's emotions. For the prince had just admitted that he only did all this because he was bored, didn't he? Ever since the ball she knew that he wasn't particularly fond of most other aristocrats, but…nevertheless, this was still too much. She didn't want to know what kind of other _experiments_ he might think up of. "Don't you feel the slightest bit of guilt?"

"Guilt? What for? Do my actions injure or kill anyone? I think not," the prince suddenly sounded so cold that she flinched – his blue eyes were frigid, and she guessed that her words had touched a nerve. But she hadn't said anything wrong. "Do those who abandon their children because they did something to shame the noble family feel any guilt for their actions? Do the many noblemen who flock around the monarch of a country feel any guilt about fleeing the moment it looks like the king may be dethroned? People are superficial, Cinderella, and the aristocracy embodies that quality the most of all," he exhaled. "I hope that you're not like the rest of them, my sweet," he smiled thinly.

"I have never been interested in the throne," she answered truthfully, a little shocked by his sudden outburst just now. It was the first time she actually saw this side of him – he had been gentlemanly on occasion and mischievous most of the time, teasing her and clearly enjoying her embarrassment. But this was the first time he seemed close to angry, and for some reason she felt like the bitterness in his words might be what the prince really was like, underneath the façade of charm and gentle smiles. If that was his true self, it would help explain why he suddenly became so suspicious of her. There had to be a reason for that, since he seemed to believe her stories at first.

"I don't know why, but ever since the first night I've met you, I have felt that to be true," he reached up, gently looping a lock of her hair behind her ear. She stiffened at the fleeting contact – it wasn't the first time they were physically close, but this felt different from all the other times. Very quickly, the moment passed and he was back to his usual humorous, slightly mocking self. "But let us focus on getting you proper clothes instead of discussing my favourite entertainment. It's a dreary topic to touch on, and I'm not in the mood to debate with you over whether my actions are _right_ or not," he looked up at the road ahead, clearly indicating that the conversation was over, so she turned away.

What a strange person. It just made her all the more determined to get away from the palace as quickly as possible. She didn't want to have to put up with his sudden moodiness or try to figure out what made him tick. The sooner she left the palace, the less confused the prince would make her.

* * *

They continued onwards to the poorer parts of the city. Miku looked around, fascinated – it was the first time she had come to this part of the city, and she was intrigued by how different the area was compared to the sterile environment of the noble townhouses. The commoners did not have the elaborate gardens or gates of the aristocracy. The cottages were all packed together as tightly as possible.

Of course, Temane was wealthier than other states in Ossyria since this state belonged to the King, and was the country's trading hub. Most traders would stop by Temane at least once during their travels. But the shabbiness of the peasants startled her, nevertheless. It was so different from what she was used to, and some of them were so obviously poor, even more so than the servants in the palace or in the Hatsune household. Most of the commoners were staring at her and the prince, which made her feel a little uneasy. All this attention made her feel almost guilty, for some reason.

Maybe it was just the fact that she was so much more fortunate than most of them were, despite being a slave in her own mansion for six years of her life. She never had to go without food, and some of these people lying in the gutters were almost skeletal in their appearance, dressed in shabby rags and begging for food or money from slightly better-off passers-by. The prince rode through the crowd with little acknowledgement of the masses around them, but she couldn't pretend they didn't exist the way he did. She couldn't just ignore the people staring with amazement – or was that hostility? – on their faces. She closed her eyes and ducked her head so that she wouldn't have to look at them.

Frost continued trotting leisurely down the cobblestone pavement, and she was tempted to make the prince go faster, but she didn't want to let him know that she was unnerved by being here. She was sure she wouldn't mind if she was dressed more appropriately and she wasn't going down the road on a horse, flaunting her obvious higher standing in society. Of course people would stare if that happened – but now she knew that when she left the palace, she ought to dress as shabbily as possible. That shouldn't be a problem. Her servant's attire was probably still around somewhere.

The marketplace was in a large courtyard in the centre of the peasants' quarters, and was slightly more familiar to her than the shabby cottages of the commoners. She could see that, on the other side of the courtyard, the poor dwellings stretched on, becoming squat buildings probably shared by multiple families rather than just individual cottages. She was actually glad they didn't have to continue down the road towards that area. The sharp contrast between the wealth of the nobles and the poverty of the peasants was shocking. Was life as a commoner really so difficult? The questions she used to ask her household servants never prepared her for the reality of life in the peasants' quarter.

The courtyard itself had a few pushcarts with people selling fresh produce, some others offering trinkets and other accessories for sale. The people manning these makeshift stalls didn't seem to be doing much better than the peasants they passed by on the way here, but at least they looked fed. There were shops along the courtyard too, mostly selling food as well. "We're at the marketplace," the prince finally spoke. "Straight on is the Black Quarter, where the poorest of the poor in Temane live. To the left and right there are more streets, each specialising in different goods or services."

"You seem remarkably familiar with the place," she observed, glad for the brief distraction from all the curious looks and mutters. The prince chuckled quietly, but didn't say anything about the matter, instead expertly guiding Frost towards the left road. They rode on deeper into the marketplace, the number of shops steadily increasing the further they went. Miku could tell that there were obvious clusters of different shops – near the courtyard, most shops seemed to sell produce, such as fruits, vegetables and dairy products. Then they reached an area where everyone seemed to be offering haircuts or grooming services, for both humans and pets, and now every shop seemed to be selling books. It was very strange that the marketplace was located in the peasants' quarter, since most of the items being sold here seemed far more appropriate for the richer noble class. Miku did not think that most of the peasants she saw earlier cared for haircuts or books. Could any of them even read?

She decided to ask the prince about the strange location of Temane's main marketplace, given that the goods and services offered just didn't seem to match the needs of the nearby residents. "Well, it's not just peasants who live in this quarter, you know," came the prince's blithe response. "The noble townhouses are exactly what they're called – for nobility. So there are those who are wealthy, but live here because they are forbidden from living in the townhouses…the owners of these shops, for example. There are richer areas in the Peasants' Quarter, but I didn't take that route because it's longer."

"So we went through the poor section to get to the marketplace?" she asked. He nodded, and she bit her lip, wondering if that was why the people there kept staring at them. She and the prince must have stood out immensely there. Miku had always been rather sheltered while growing up, so seeing how different the life of a commoner was…it was really shocking for her. "I didn't know there would be people who are so poor that they have to beg," she murmured, looking back down the street.

There were not many beggars along the market streets, but the image was still stark in her memory. "Well, now you know. The world isn't as pretty as what your upbringing might indicate," the prince answered. "I was rather surprised the first time I came here, too. But there's nothing we can do, so don't think about it," his blasé tone startled her and she looked up at him, unsure if he was being serious or not. His face was neutral. "Everyone has their lot in life, Cinderella. We were lucky to be born into wealthy families. The peasants are not. Maybe in their next life, they will be, but for now they just have to continue struggling and working to make a life for themselves. There's nothing we can do," he repeated. Miku frowned. How could he possibly say such a thing, and so seriously too?

"Exactly! We are more fortunate, so we ought to do something to help those worse-off than us," she exclaimed. The prince tugged sharply on the reins, bringing Frost to a stop, and she slid down the saddle, unprepared for the sudden halt – the prince caught her arm, preventing her from falling off the horse. She sat there, heart thudding in her chest as she stared down at the cobblestoned road.

"What, so you expect us to just sit in the palace all day and dole out money to the peasants?" he asked drily, his other hand touching her chin and tilting her head up so that she was forced to stare at him. He looked incredulous. "Use your head, Cinderella. We can't support every single person who's living in poverty. If we do that, _we'd_ be the ones suffering. Under my father's reign, the taxes the citizens pay have been at their lowest in decades. There is nothing else we can do," he stressed. Miku stared mutinously back at the prince, and he sighed. "You are far too naïve and idealistic. It worries me, knowing that someone like you will end up ruling by my side one day," he muttered.

She didn't grace that with a response, instead jerking her head so that she broke free of his grip. The prince sighed again. "Well, continue thinking whatever you wish. Just know that any scheme you come up with will be unfeasible and impractical," he slid gracefully off Frost, holding his hand out to her. She glanced at him in surprise, her annoyance momentarily forgotten. "We have arrived," the prince explained. "This shop is where the palace tailor lives and sells her clothes. Other nobles have come to her before, and from what I hear her dresses are very popular. Shall we take a look?"

It wasn't like Miku was very familiar with fashion, nor did she particularly care for it anyway, but knowing that this was the royal tailor interested her a little. This person must be in charge of making all the clothes that the royals wore, then. She wanted to know what sort of woman she was. Taking the prince's hand, she allowed him to help her down to the pavement, then she glanced at the shopfront – the signage had no flashy declarations or titles, and it looked like any other shop along this street. "So she makes your clothes?" Miku asked, asking the prince. He nodded, smiling at her.

"Every single one of them," he replied. Miku looked critically at his outfit today – a crisp, white long sleeved shirt and tan, fitted trousers, with a pair of black riding boots. His jewelled sword was still strapped to his side. She admitted that it wasn't too bad an outfit, so she supposed there wouldn't be anything wrong with letting the royal tailor make her clothes as well. Miku walked towards the door, the prince holding it open for her, and then the two of them entered the modest shop.


	20. Chapter 20

"Your Highness," a soft voice spoke, and a slender woman came out from the shadows at the back, curtseying towards the prince. Miku gave her a curious look, taking note of her fiery red hair and her eyes, the same shade of bloody crimson. Her appearance seemed at odds with her gentle manner.

"Cul," Romeo responded with a short nod, and the woman rose from the curtsey, smiling peacefully at Miku. "My fiancée – I'm sure you know that I became engaged recently – is in need of clothing that is more suitable for day-to-day wear," she did not have to glance at him to know that he was giving her nightdress a look of distaste. "Do you have a few outfits that may tide her over for a week, at least until you are able to create a full wardrobe for her? We can't have my bride dressed like this."

"Well…" Cul took a step closer to Miku, and Miku resisted the urge to fidget as the tailor looked carefully at her, probably trying to get a good estimate of her measurements. "I may have a few dresses that might fit her. She certainly is rather thin, but I'm sure we will have something for you, Your Highness," Cul smiled at Miku again. She felt a little more at ease. It had been a very long time since she last had to get fitted for clothes, and she was unused to the tailor's keen gaze upon her.

"Please fetch them, and we'll see whether or not they will do," the prince answered, and Cul nodded once before she turned and went towards the back of the shop, where there seemed to be another door. The tailor stepped out of the room, leaving them alone. Miku glanced curiously around the shop. Cul appeared to be very tidy, or at least as tidy as it was possible to be given that she had to work with so many fabrics and garments. There were scrap materials in a small pile on one side of a long workbench, and mannequins stood half-dressed around the shop, wearing the most curious dresses. Miku could also see neatly folded piles of coloured fabric, scattered all around the small space.

"She is very popular, you know. Especially among the aristocracy," the prince's voice cut through her thoughts, distracting her from her observations. She glanced up at him and saw that he was looking quizzically around the shop, his arms folded across his chest. "It is difficult to arrange an appointment with her, but since we are the royal family we have priority over the other nobles," a small smile crossed his face. "I do not pretend to know much about women's fashion, but I think her designs are remarkable. The dresses you wore to the ball, they reminded me of something Cul might create."

Miku raised an eyebrow, intrigued now. Something which Cul might create? If the tailor was able to produce something that her mother might have worn, then Miku was absolutely certain that she would adore the tailor's designs. She nodded at what the prince said, waiting for the tailor to return, and a few moments later Cul returned with two dresses in her arms, one a deep velvety black and the other a silvery white which reminded her of moonlight. Cul approached her, offering her the dresses.

Gingerly, Miku took hold of the two garments, feeling the sensation of soft silk and satin against her skin and marvelling at how smooth they were to the touch. She held up both dresses against herself and Cul indicated a mirror at the back of the shop, allowing Miku to take a look at her reflection. The prince remained silent as she regarded herself in the mirror. Miku lingered more on the black dress than she did the white – though the white dress was undeniably beautiful, there was something about the black one which mesmerised her – and, of course, black was her mother's favourite colour…

"The black one does flatter you indeed, Your Highness," the tailor offered as she continued to stare at herself, the black dress held up against her body. This one reminded her somewhat of the dress she wore for the second night of the ball, but while that one had been a little too daring for her preference, this one was just lovely. It was covered with gorgeous silk roses and ribbons and it had a ruffled, high neck collar. The long skirt was full but not too heavy – it wouldn't be difficult to walk in it. The waist was cinched to create a sweeping, graceful figure. She was already in love with the dress.

"I adore this one," she glanced at the prince, who looked wordlessly back at her. She held his gaze for a while – his expression was distant, as though he was thinking about other things, so she decided to ignore him for now. "The white one is beautiful too, but…" she hesitated. "It is not really my taste," she passed the two dresses back to the tailor. Cul nodded, carefully taking hold of both.

"Very well. I feel that I may have an idea of what your taste is now," she remarked. "I have a few other creations – they are older than this one but I assure you, they are of equally marvellous quality – and they should serve as a temporary wardrobe. I shall also take your measurements and design a few dresses especially for Your Highness, and have them sent up to the palace when they are ready."

"Yes, that sounds delightful," Miku nodded, clasping her hands together. Talking to the tailor was much more enjoyable than talking to the prince – possibly because she didn't feel like Cul was trying to dig out all her secrets with every word she spoke. The tailor curtseyed, giving her another smile, and ushered her into another room so that she could take her measurements. The prince continued to wait out front, growing more and more bored by the moment. He would never understand women.

He remembered his fiancée used to show the same kind of enthusiasm upon stepping into a tailor's shop. Clothes and dresses…she was fond of them, and she loved looking at dresses and trying them on. He never understood why of course – it seemed so troublesome – but he enjoyed watching her fuss over clothes, her wide eyes sparkling whenever she turned to ask him for his opinion on a new dress.

Cinderella reminded him of his fiancée when she glanced at him, holding that black dress against her body. She had not asked him for _his_ opinion, but the gesture, that motion, it all reminded him so terribly of his dead fiancée that for a moment, his mind shut down. Of course he knew that the two girls were nothing alike. They didn't even look like each other. And he actually thought he had stopped seeing his fiancée's ghost everywhere he looked – but when Cinderella looked at him that way, his heart…

He was glad that she and Cul were elsewhere now. Len was sure he didn't look particularly well, and the last thing he wanted was for Cinderella to start asking him questions. He rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes, exhaling. His heart was still racing. "She's _dead_. Stop seeing her everywhere," he muttered, hoping that his mind would cooperate for once. Glancing out of the window, he saw Frost still tethered to a lamppost outside, and the sight of the white mare calmed him down a tiny bit.

It was good that Cinderella looked nothing like his dead beloved. Fulfilling his promise to his father would no doubt be harder if he was constantly distracted by Cinderella's appearance. As it was, she was beautiful, but he was sure that with time he would grow used to her loveliness. Now he simply had to trick her into lying about something, _anything_ regarding her background, and surely her entire story would begin to unravel. As soon as they returned to the palace, he would take a leaf out of her book and start reading up on Veracent's history and customs. Then maybe he could force her into a corner, and she would have no choice but to admit that she was lying about her past. Yes, that sounded like a good plan.

* * *

Cul sent one of her assistants, who had apparently all been hiding in the backroom, to carry the dresses back to the palace for them. Miku was riding on Frost once more, closing her eyes and trying her best to imagine that she was somewhere else, while the assistant travelled slowly behind Frost on a grey donkey, carrying five dresses in total. The prince had paid for the gowns without a single question.

Miku had been quite tempted to ask the tailor if there was any secret passageway out of the shop to the street, but she was also certain Cul would inform the prince that his fiancée was trying to sneak away – and besides, she still didn't have enough money to get very far. And she most certainly was not running away in her ill-fitting nightdress. She had promptly changed out of her nightdress upon receiving the gowns, and now she felt much better about herself. At least she was presentable, and the hem of her dress no longer dragged on the floor, threatening to trip her at every step.

"You really don't like horses, do you?" the prince observed. "I thought you might have gotten used to Frost by now, but you look…well, you look rather unwell," he sounded like he was suppressing a laugh. She would have shot him a glare if she wasn't currently feeling so giddy. In the end she just resorted to tightening her grip on the saddle and resolutely ignoring the prince, hoping he would understand that she was not amused by his jibes. Thankfully, he didn't say anything more to her.

They left the town market without further incident. This time the prince did not take the route through the poorer areas, so she saw the luxurious houses of the merchants who were rich enough to own mansions, but were unable to live in the noble townhouses. There was no sign of poverty or hunger here, but she couldn't get the image out of her head – starving people with their arms stretching out towards her, begging her for food and money. This image would haunt her for a long time.

"I wonder if Gumo and Gumi are done cleaning up the room?" the prince mused aloud, more to himself than to her. "It would be nice to take a nap now…though I suppose the treasurer still wants to go through the tax returns with me," his tone soured. Miku would have found his reluctance to be rather entertaining if riding on Frost wasn't still making her feel poorly. "You should accompany me, you know. Since we're going to be married one day, all this will soon be your responsibility as well."

His sudden address startled her, and she glanced back at him – he was staring intently at her, waiting for her to respond. "Oh…well…" she didn't know how to say no without sounding like a brat. She _knew_ that as the princess, state affairs was something she would have to take an interest in, but at the same time she simply didn't wish to marry him. How was she supposed to say that without sounding suspicious, though? "I'm afraid that it might be too complicated for me," she finally came up with an excuse, hoping it would work. "No doubt I'll be a hindrance rather than of any great help."

"But you were taught everything a noble lady ought to know as a child, no?" the prince retorted. "So you should know perfectly well how to look through documents and check that everything tallies. It is basic knowledge. Or do we actually need to summon the governesses?" she gritted her teeth at that. She was sure he was threatening her, and it wasn't in a particularly subtle manner either. "I think that it will not take long, today. Most of the work is intended for tomorrow anyway. And it's not as though you have much to do in the palace, so why don't you assist your fiancé for a while?"

"Very well, since you claim to require my assistance so terribly. However, I was hoping to have some time to myself so that I may familiarise myself with the palace. So if it is possible, I would really wish for this to end as quickly as possible," she finally answered, her tone firm. The prince agreed easily to that, much to her surprise, and they continued to ride towards the palace, Cul's assistant following a short distance behind them.

Gumo came to greet them at the palace gates, looking a little tired. His green hair was unruly and his uniform was slightly crooked, but as he bowed and helped Miku down from Frost, he tidied up his hair and clothes, straightening his coat in a bid to look more presentable. "My prince, you have a visitor waiting for you," the butler spoke, grasping Frost's reins as the prince dismounted. Prince Romeo raised an eyebrow at that while Miku stood, as always, a safe distance away from the white mare.

"Oh? Today is a busy day," he mused. "I entertained the Viscount of Lexane just this morning, and now there's another visitor?" he glanced at her, and Miku glared back, wondering what more he wanted from her. If he sent her on yet another errand she might just scream in frustration. It felt like he was trying to keep her as occupied as possible. Hopefully that was just for today – perhaps he was simply bored and was ordering her around for his personal entertainment. Surely she would have more time for herself tomorrow since he said he had to look through tax returns with the treasurer?

The prince's butler nodded, then leant closer to Prince Romeo and whispered something in his ear. Romeo's blue eyes widened at whatever the butler told him and he withdrew, staring in shock at him. "What is his purpose for coming here?" he asked. Gumo shook his head apologetically, silently admitting that he did not know. The prince narrowed his eyes. "Very well. I shall see him then – whatever the reason, it must be urgent for him to make this trip all the way to the palace. Gumo, settle the new dresses we have purchased," he waved a hand behind him, indicating the assistant who had finally caught up with the two of them. Gumo nodded, bowing and approaching the assistant, while the prince turned to face her. "Forget the papers for now. Accompany me."

"What is going on?" she asked, hanging back cautiously. The prince regarded her, as though contemplating sharing more information with her – then suddenly he exhaled, running his fingers through his hair. He seemed conflicted about telling her more. She watched Gumo while waiting – the butler was directing the assistant now, reaching out to carry two of the five bundles. No doubt they would be placed in the prince's room, since effectively that was her room now too. What an uncomfortable thought. She still wasn't entirely pleased about sharing a room with him.

"One of the nobles from the Founding Four has come to visit," the prince finally spoke, drawing her attention back to him. She blinked, startled by this – one of the Founding Four? That was strange. She wasn't exactly sure who were the heads of the Four now, since it had been so long since she last saw any of those nobles. Of course the king was likely the head of the Kamui family, and her family had no head since her father passed away. But for the remaining two families, she was uncertain. It had been a while since she last paid a visit to any other aristocrats. Of course she knew the titles they held, but their actual names and faces remained unknown to her. "He was not present during the ball, but apparently he rushed over as soon as possible upon hearing about our engagement. I think that in this case, it would only be appropriate if you were to greet him as well," he concluded quietly.

"Who is he?" she asked, hesitant. The prince seemed remarkably serious for once. The prince gave her a careful look, and she wondered if she had said something stupid. But it was a valid question, wasn't it? The visitor could be from any of the Founding Four, and be any noble within that family as well.

"You will find out when you see him," he answered. Then he frowned. "Perhaps you ought to change out of your current dress first. We did purchase more appropriate outfits. Follow Gumo and find me in the gardens when you are done," to her surprise, he reached out, his fingers lingering against her cheek. He leant close to her and she stood still, feeling his warm breath against her skin. "Make sure you put on the ring I gave you, and wear the loveliest dress you now own," he whispered, meeting her gaze for a few quick seconds before he retreated, turning away from her. "I'll see you later. Don't keep us waiting for too long. Gumo, show her the way to the gardens later," he called.

"Yes, Your Highness," the butler smiled at her. She stepped towards Gumo as the prince left the courtyard, entering the open doors of the palace. The guards bowed as the prince passed, and she watched until his figure disappeared from sight. Gumo was now balancing all five packages, the assistant leaving after she concluded the deal. "Shall we go, princess?" he asked, struggling a little with the packages. Miku offered to help carry some, but the butler shook his head resolutely. "You are the princess. You should not be involved in menial work. That is the reason why I am here, after all," the butler's tone was dry. She hid a smile and followed him as he left.

Gumo was honestly much more enjoyable to be around than the prince himself. Admittedly she might think that because he didn't attempt to control her the way the prince did, but the butler also seemed more open and friendly than Romeo. Half the time she couldn't even guess what the prince was thinking. His intentions were shrouded in mystery, and in that aspect he resembled her. They shared too many similarities for her to feel at ease around him – after all, she knew herself best, and she was certain that she wouldn't want to be with someone who was too much like herself.

She was hurriedly led all the way to the prince's room, and Gumo deposited the packages on the bed. Gumi was not in the room, and Miku observed that the room already looked significantly better than it did last night. The ink was wiped up, there was no more broken glass on the floor and the clothes were hanging neatly back in the half-open wardrobe. Of course, the mirror was still missing and the desk was strangely devoid of any papers, but otherwise the room looked almost completely back to normal. "I shall leave you to change, Your Highness, and escort you to the rose gardens when you are done," Gumo nodded at her before he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Miku sighed.

This was ridiculous. She never knew that being part of the royal family entailed so much work. Clearly, Lucinda's fantasies of being a pampered princess who only had to care about sweets and dresses were _false_. If every single day was as busy as this, she would never manage to leave the palace! In fact, she might collapse of exhaustion before an opportunity even presented itself. Of course, she was used to labour and hard work, but…this was a different kind of work. Figuring out the prince's mind games was tedious enough in itself. And now it seemed as though her other duties included greeting all the guests the palace received, as well as assisting the prince with state affairs.

She opened a package at random, slipping into the velvety black garment within. It fit her fairly well – just a little bit loose at the waist, but otherwise a lovely dress. She was looking forward to seeing Cul's personal designs for her, which would no doubt fit better than these pieces. As she stepped towards the door, preparing to exit the room, she paused – the prince's whisper floated through her thoughts. " _Make sure you wear the ring I gave you_ …" she glanced down at her bare left hand. Come to think of it, she never took the ring the prince gave her at the ball. Where did he keep it then?

She had to find it. She knew it was extremely valuable, so if she pawned it off during her grand escape she would no doubt make a small fortune. Where could he have placed the ring though? Her first thought was perhaps in the wardrobe, but after opening the doors and giving the contents a quick glance, she didn't think the ring was there. The prince's wardrobe was rather simple, with only some space for storing clothes and a few drawers for other items. None of those drawers contained the ring. Where else could it possibly be, however? Perhaps on his desk?

Quickly, she went to the desk, rifling through the inkwells and fountain pens the prince had on his table. She didn't see the ring, so she started opening the drawers. The first one contained nothing but papers and letters, so she closed the drawer, not wanting to read through the documents – at least, not for now. She might some other time, if those papers contained any information which might aid her in her escape. Going to the next drawer, she saw a few velvet boxes and let out a sigh of relief, certain that one of those boxes contained her ring. Picking one at random, she lifted the small box from the drawer, carefully opening it to take a look at what was inside. Then she frowned.

This wasn't the ring she was looking for. It _was_ a ring, but not the ornate one with the precious gems the prince had proposed to her with on the night of the third ball. This ring was silver, and the only jewel it had was a single vivid blue sapphire, winking at her in the most inviting manner. Though it was much simpler than her engagement ring, Miku found herself strangely drawn to it. The ring was elegant and minimalistic, and far more appealing to Miku's personal sense of style than the other ring anyway. She wondered why the prince had this, and why he chose not to wear it. Was it a ring from his previous engagement? Carefully, she closed the box and picked up another velvet one.

This one had another ring, similar to the one she just saw, but with a bright red ruby instead of a sapphire. The band was made of gleaming silver as well. Clearly a set of two, then. She supposed they really did belong to his previous engagement, so she decided to leave them well alone. Miku was not overly fond of the prince, but even she knew where to draw the line, and an issue so sensitive should not be explored any further. She put the two boxes back where she had found them.

But the remaining velvet boxes did not contain her engagement ring either, much to her vexation. One held a pair of crystal earrings, the other a diamond bracelet and the final box, which was too big to hold just a ring anyway, contained a beautiful mother-of-pearl necklace. All lovely things, but not what she was searching for. Should she just ignore the prince's request and proceed to the garden then? She would explain that she didn't even have the ring later. It wasn't like she didn't try to look, anyway.

She closed the drawer with the jewellery boxes and knocked once on the door before leaving the room. Gumo, who was waiting some distance away, glanced up when she came out and bowed towards her, indicating that she should follow him. She did not miss the way his eyes widened when he saw her in the black dress, and she hid a small smile, aware of her own beauty. She knew that beautiful women could easily manipulate men into doing whatever they wanted – but the prince himself was handsome, so that probably would not work as well on him. How could she make him stop bothering her all the time? She simply wished to be left alone, but he seemed reluctant to grant that wish.

"So who is this nobleman the prince is so concerned about?" she questioned the butler as they went down the stairs towards the rose gardens. Gumo, who had been looking straight ahead the entire time, jumped a little at the question and turned to regard her quizzically. She looked back at him, looking as innocent as possible, though of course she really had no idea and had no particular reason for asking either, besides to satisfy her impatient curiosity. They were now approaching the palace backyard.

"He is from the Sakine family," the butler finally answered, sounding almost reluctant to share this piece of information. She didn't miss the way he held back his words, like he was revealing something that ought to be kept secret. "There is a reason why the prince asked you to put on your ring…which you did not do," he added, his green gaze flitting over to her bare hand. She stared back at him unflinchingly, and the butler sighed. "Well, we have no time to return to the room, he is already waiting, so let's just go," he turned and continued through the hallway, and she followed.

They stepped out into the afternoon sunlight, Miku instinctively lifting her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. She could see the prince talking to someone some distance away, in the middle of the rose gardens, and that's where Gumo led her. A small distance away from the gardens, he stopped and waited for her to approach, and she did so hesitantly, trying to see who the nobleman was. He was standing with his back facing the sun however, so his face was in shadow. All she knew was that he was slightly taller than the prince, and he appeared to have dark brown hair which glimmered in the light. He was dressed in the fine clothing of an aristocrat, but she could not observe anything else.

"Your Highness," Gumo called, "I have brought your fiancée," he glanced at her. Miku stepped out from behind him and the prince nodded, beckoning to her. She briefly contemplated standing her ground, but decided it would be inappropriate to defy him in front of his subjects, so she went over, appearing every inch the subservient bride. She saw a faint smirk appear on the prince's face but it was gone before she could pay it any attention. "I will take my leave," Gumo bowed, and left as quietly as he came. She almost wanted to protest against his departure, but she held her tongue.

The prince wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her slightly closer to him, but when she looked up at him with well-concealed irritation in her gaze, she saw he was not looking at her. Instead, he was smiling at the nobleman, whom Miku could now see had deep brown eyes and a slightly cocky grin on his face – _he_ was studying her as though she was some piece of fine art. The longer he watched, the more uncomfortable she became. "It is wonderful to meet you," she curtseyed, breaking the silence and taking the chance to look away from the man.

"Likewise," the man inclined his head. She could feel his gaze boring holes into her. "Your fiancée is a lovely girl, Your Highness. And when will the wedding be?" she saw his gaze dip down to her bare left hand and she quickly hid her hands behind her back, smiling all the while. He raised an eyebrow and met her gaze once more, and she continued to hide her hands, wondering why he was paying so much attention to her. Was this why the prince wanted her to wear the ring?

"There is no set date yet," the prince responded. "But now my fiancée is here, so we can cease with the small talk. What is the purpose of your visit today, Earl of Ereve?" his words sounded more like an order than a question. The nobleman bowed, a shallower bow than the ones Gumo gave them, but a bow nevertheless. For the moment it looked like he had forgotten about her.

"As my family was unable to attend your birthday ball, we present you a gift to compensate for our absence. The gift has been left with your treasurer," he waved his hand carelessly, looking around the rose gardens. The prince's grip on her waist tightened a little, and for once she did not feel the urge to protest. For some reason she did not feel very safe around this man, and between him and the prince she would prefer the lesser of two evils. "And of course, I had to see with my very own eyes the identity of the lady who managed to capture your heart, Your Highness," he gave her an icy smile. Miku did not return it.

"Her name is Cinderella. A most charming girl," the prince smoothly responded, and again the nobleman raised an eyebrow, looking her over with cool disbelief on his face. "I would not encourage asking anything more about her name. It merely puts her in a foul mood," he warned, glancing down at her. Miku narrowed her eyes but continued to keep quiet and listen, wishing to find out more about this man before she said anything to either one of them. "You must be remarkably free, Sakine Meito, to be able to visit the palace just two days after I proposed. News most certainly travels quickly."

"There is nothing looser than the tongues of the aristocracy," Sakine Meito smirked, "and my dear sister said that it is only appropriate for us to send a gift since we were not present for such a momentous occasion. And of course you know I have plenty of time on my hands, Your Highness. I am the heir to the estate, but only in name. My older sister is the one who controls everything…at least that will be the case until she gets married. But somehow I doubt that she ever will," he added.

Miku eyed the man warily – from what she saw so far, he didn't seem to be a very pleasant person. Prince Romeo coughed. "Meiko is a wonderful woman," he shook his head, "and you would do well to learn from her, rather than spending all your money on luxury and entertainment," his tone became slightly sharper here. She was quite surprised to hear the prince reprimanding a noble, especially right in front of her, but the son of the Sakine family simply waved it off, as though he could not care less about what the prince was saying. She definitely didn't have a very good first impression of this particular aristocrat.

"If you think my sister is so wonderful, then perhaps you ought to marry her instead, and I may have your fiancée," he boldly suggested, giving her a serious look as he said those words. The prince's grip on her waist was almost unbearably tight now. Miku simply gaped at Meito, shocked by just how blatantly unapologetic he was – surely what he said crossed the boundary between what was appropriate and what was not.

"I am _engaged_ to the prince," she retorted sharply, unable to keep her mouth shut. "You should think carefully about what you say, especially to someone from the royal family." Such a gross breach of decorum could not simply be tolerated, even if she did not have any feelings for her fiancé and only agreed to his proposal for her own benefit. The prince's hold relaxed slightly, but Meito simply smiled in amusement, not taking any offence. Miku decided that she did not like him.

"Well, you are a fiery one," he answered peacefully. "But if you are engaged, as I hear from the other aristocrats who attended the ball, then pray tell, why is your hand bare? I hear the prince gave you a stunning engagement ring. Or is there something more to your engagement that the rest of us are unaware of?" his dark eyes glittered, almost maliciously. Miku swallowed, unable to look at the prince – she didn't want to know what kind of expression he would be wearing on his face right now. Gumo's statement, that the prince had asked her to wear her ring for a reason, rang through her mind.

"It is too precious to wear, so I left it in our room," she answered smoothly, still hiding her hands behind her back. "If you hear so many rumours, then you should know that the ring truly is a valuable treasure. Perhaps worth more than your life itself," she didn't mean for the scathing remark to slip out from her mouth, but she did not regret saying it out loud either. The noble blinked, startled by the venom in her words, and the prince pulled her a little bit closer to him. She still did not meet his gaze.

Suddenly, Meito laughed. "Oh, you're a delight to speak with. Little wonder the prince is enamoured of you. Though if I am not wrong, did he not swear to never marry again after his first fiancée died?" his dark gaze flitted over to the prince. Romeo stiffened, and again Meito laughed, the gentle sound at odds with the playful cruelty in his expression. "Say, Cinderella, let me ask you a question. You wouldn't happen to be related to anyone in the Hatsune family, would you?" he watched her curiously.

She blinked. "Through my aunt, yes. But not by blood to the family itself," she lied, wondering why he asked her such a question. She had the sinking feeling that it was because of her appearance. Sakine Meito was one of the nobles from the Four Founding Families, and he no doubt knew what her father looked like. Miku did not want anyone to discover her real identity, not at this moment. She did not have enough information about her circumstances to let down her guard.

"That's odd. You remind me of someone from that family," he frowned a little. "I met the Duke when I was a child. You have the same hair and the same green eyes as him. A funny coincidence, I'd say. His daughter is dead, you know," he continued cheerfully, the frown disappearing. She smiled back and nodded, thankful that he let go of the matter so easily. But she knew this would just fuel the prince's suspicions about her. Even other members of the aristocracy were taking note of her appearance now…

"Yes indeed, Hatsune Miku is long dead," the prince interrupted. "We all know that. I'm sure you're here for other reasons as well, Earl Sakine, so let us discuss them indoors," the prince let go of her and stepped aside, waiting for the nobleman to make his way back inside the palace. Meito nodded, a faint smile still on his face, and when he walked past Miku he paused and turned to look at her. She stared up at him, green eyes blazing with defiance, and he leant close to whisper in her ear.

"I'm sure the resemblance is more than mere coincidence. But that's your secret, not mine. Just that, I'd be careful about trusting the prince if I were you. He knows more than what he lets on. You should ask him about his _father_ and his _religious beliefs_ ," he smiled thinly, before he straightened up and continued on his way, followed shortly by the prince. Her fiancé glanced at her as he walked past her, a look of curiosity on his face, but he did not stop. She guessed he was wondering about what Meito said to her on his way out of the gardens. In fact, _she_ was wondering about what he said.

The prince's father? His religious beliefs? She had no idea what Meito was talking about. But that just reminded her of what the Viscount of Lexane mentioned regarding the Order of Bethlehem – did what Meito just say to her hint that the prince actually _knew_ about the Order? Or was he just toying with her? "Come with me," Romeo turned and called to her. She absentmindedly followed his instruction, trailing along behind the two men as she continued pondering what she had been told.

It seemed as though the palace and the royal family hid some important information. And the Founding Four – which she was a part of herself – had some pretty dark secrets of their own as well. It ignited a fierce battle between her curiosity and her sense of self-preservation – while she _was_ a member of the Founding Four and thus probably had all right to find out more about this Order, at the same time was it something she really wanted to get involved in?


	21. Chapter 21

"Your Highness, are you lost?" Miku jumped at the sound of Gumo's voice. The butler was staring quizzically at her as she walked back and forth across the window, frowning at the grounds outside.

It was actually a little embarrassing to admit it, but yes, she was lost. She raised her chin defiantly, reluctant to let him know the truth. "I was just thinking about things. About my cousins and my aunt. I wonder how they are doing now," she answered. Then hastily she changed the topic. "Are the prince and the Earl of Ereve done with their discussion?" she asked. They had been talking for quite some time now.

She accompanied her fiancé and the earl to the drawing room, where someone, probably Gumi, had already laid out some tea and biscuits. She watched as the two men engaged in light conversation, the topics sometimes drifting to politics or to travel. The prince often asked her for her opinion, and she was not sure how she felt about that – it was surprising to be spoken to, but it was also nice to be included in the conversation even if she had little to contribute by way of personal experience.

But it seemed like the Earl did not come all the way to the palace just to make small talk, and Sakine Meito kept giving her strange looks that fell somewhere between curiosity and…irritation? The dark man was very difficult to read. The prince, who clearly knew from the start that the Earl must want some private discussion with him, eventually sent her away. Miku thought she might as well explore a little and try to find some secret passageway out of the palace – there had to be one, right? In case there was ever some crisis and the royals had to secretly flee from the country? But she did not manage to find anything.

Instead, she simply wandered around the building until she somehow ended up in a wing of the palace she did not recognise. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to cross the courtyard into the spire tower. It led out into a part of the palace which the prince did not show her during his tour. From the window, she could see the forest that lay beyond the palace grounds, but she could not see the rose gardens.

"No, they are not yet done. I think it is likely that the Earl will stay for the night," Gumo answered. "Are you not searching for more information about your…interests today, Your Highness?" he asked tactfully, approaching her from the other end of the passageway. Miku wanted to groan. The very thought of reading through all those books made her weary. Besides, what the Earl of Ereve hinted to her about the prince's possibly unorthodox religious beliefs lingered in her mind – religious cults were not something she wanted to concentrate on for the time being. It was not any of her business.

"I am taking a break from that," she answered vaguely. "It was just a personal project of mine, and it is not particularly important. But let me ask you – where are we now? The prince did not show me this area when we went around the palace, the other day," she explained. Gumo nodded, frowning slightly as he came to a stop beside her, facing the window. The sun was slowly beginning to sink behind the hills in the distance, throwing the entire courtyard into shadow. Night was falling.

"This part of the palace is not often used. The treasury is here, along with some other rooms that were part of the old palace before it got damaged during the civil war. When our king ascended to the throne he decided that such a huge palace was not necessary, so this wing was shut down. But the servants still clean this area, since the old wing is opened up on certain special occasions," the butler told her. Miku nodded, looking around her again – she had been wondering why the walls here seemed so bare compared to the rest of the palace, but it did not occur to her that this wing might have been abandoned. "How did you get inside here, princess? Most people do not wander so far."

"I walked across the courtyard to the spire tower," Miku pointed out of the window towards the lone building, which hid within the shadow of the palace, practically invisible. "When I stepped out through one of the other doors within the tower I found myself in here. Since it was an unfamiliar area of the palace I decided to walk around and see what is within, but it really is extremely empty."

"Rumour has it among the servants that there's a secret passageway here," Gumo glanced at her, a small smile on his face. She perked up, interested at the mention of a secret passage. "Many of us think that is why the king does not simply have the old wing demolished. But if there really is one, we have yet to find it," his smile widened. "I look around every week, but I have never once come across it."

"Why are you searching for the passageway?" she asked, intrigued. The butler looked away from the window, expression curious. "Oh, you need not answer if it is a sensitive question," she added.

He laughed softly. "Your Highness, I'd answer anything you ask of me. I am merely a servant, after all. But this is not a sensitive question, so I would answer anyway. I simply have very few duties, so I spend my free time either reading or trying to find out all the secrets this old palace has to offer."

She nodded. "That sounds like an entertaining way to pass the time," she observed. The butler nodded, and they stood together in silence for a while, staring out of the window. The setting of the sun and the lengthening shadows created a strangely hypnotic sight – combined with the peaceful silence of the old, abandoned palace wing, the atmosphere was almost lulling. As she continued to stand there, she could feel her eyelids getting heavier and heavier. She had to suppress a yawn.

Gumo seemed to notice her growing tiredness. "It is fast approaching suppertime," he observed. "It might be best to start heading back, Your Highness. Shall we leave?" he offered. She nodded, glad that she'd have someone to follow out of the old wing, and the butler stepped back, giving her space to move away from the window. He walked unobtrusively beside her, discreetly showing her the way back to the palace without her ever once having to admit that she was hopelessly lost.

He was a good butler. Miku felt a pang of wistfulness – she wasn't sure why, but she was suddenly reminded of her father, who always tried to correct her mistakes in a way that wouldn't embarrass her too badly. In that respect, Gumo was like her father. It was a bittersweet thought. If the prince was more understanding like how his butler was, she might actually like him more than she did now.

* * *

Miku was having a difficult time falling asleep. It was already very late – she did not know exactly how late, but it was certainly past midnight by this point – and the prince had yet to return to his chambers. Now, while she certainly did not miss his presence, his absence felt…rather strange.

She wasn't afraid to sleep alone or anything like that – she had been sleeping alone for most of her life, after all. And she wasn't concerned about the prince's whereabouts or what he was doing. That was the least of her worries. But it was odd not having him in his own room, busy with his work or shooting sarcastic comments at her. She didn't want to go wandering around the palace in the middle of the night, but she simply couldn't fall asleep no matter how long she kept her eyes shut.

Sighing, she sat up again, running a hand through her hair. The room was dark, the faint moonlight shining through the window once again the only source of light she had to see with. The faint glow of light shone through the crack beneath the door, and she supposed that the servants would be up, ensuring that the lamps continued to shine throughout the night. It was such a big palace, though. It must take a lot of manpower to keep replacing all the lamps that lined the walls of the passageways.

Suddenly, she felt extremely alone. She shivered, looking around the room. She had already extinguished the lamp, but now she felt the urge to relight it – she just didn't want to sit here in the dark. She wasn't tired, anyway. Gingerly getting up from the bed, she felt her way over to the desk and ran her fingers across the surface, finding the smooth edge of the glass lamp. She took the box of matches that lay beside the lamp and struck one, lighting the candle that stood within.

Bright orange flame threw the room into illumination, and she set down the matchbox, blowing out the matchstick. Then she backed away from the lamp – she knew fire was important and necessary for survival, but it did not mean that she was particularly fond of it. She tugged on the edge of her nightdress, a little uncomfortable with the silky piece – it was the low-cut silk dress she had first worn when she took a bath here, on the day she arrived at the palace. She wouldn't have worn this if she had any other choice, but the prince had forced her to leave behind her old dress at Cul's shop, and she did not want to sleep in one of her day dresses either. She figured the prince wasn't around to see her in this state anyway, and by the time he was back she would be sleeping underneath the blankets.

What was she to do now? She looked around the desk, idly wondering about what the prince was discussing with the earl, and what he usually worked on when he was in here. He was always so busy. She would have thought that all the royalty did was laze around the entire day, but Prince Romeo was _always_ working – if not, he was sleeping or doing something productive with his time. It was a far cry from the stereotypical rich aristocrats she knew. Then again, he was the only heir to the throne in Ossyria. That might explain his heavy workload.

Curious, she opened the drawer where she first saw the rings this afternoon. The velvet boxes were still there, and she reached out to the first one, the one with the sapphire gem. She opened the box, and the vivid blue gem winked up at her, catching the light and shining beautifully. Looking around furtively, she took the simple ring out and slid it onto her finger – she knew the room was empty, but doing this felt wrong, like it was some kind of transgression. The silver band fit her finger perfectly.

She examined the ring under the lamplight, watching the blue sapphire as it reflected the light back at her. Did the prince's old fiancée wear this ring, or did she wear the ruby one? If she was right in assuming that this set of rings was their old wedding or engagement rings, of course. Given that she could wear the sapphire one, she assumed that this one belonged to…was it Rin, the name of his fiancée? She remembered him mumbling the name in his sleep. Miku would like to know how the girl had passed on, but it was such a sensitive question to ask that she thought against doing so.

It was actually quite shocking, hearing Sakine Meito say so explicitly that Romeo's old fiancée was dead. It was something she had inferred, of course – from the few hints the prince dropped, she knew that his fiancée was…no longer around. But it was the first time someone said this so bluntly. She didn't miss the prince's reaction to the earl's words either. He was definitely still grieving.

Suddenly the door swung open. Miku panicked, turning around – in her haste, she knocked over the velvet box she had put on the table, and it fell onto the carpeted floor, a black spot against the navy carpet. The prince came in, and she hoped that it was dark enough that the prince wouldn't notice the box against the floor. The silver ring seemed to grow cold around her finger. "Cinderella?" he asked, frowning when he saw her standing next to his desk. She swallowed, wondering what to say.

"I was…wondering when you'd return, and I couldn't sleep so I lit the lamp," she explained, giving him a partial truth. She knew better than to admit that she had been looking through his drawers. Luckily she had closed the drawer after taking out the box. The prince continued to frown, but thankfully he didn't ask any more questions. "What did you and the earl talk about?" she hastily asked – she wasn't _extremely_ interested to know, but it might divert the prince's attention.

"Some private matters," he answered vaguely. "Things that are kept secret between the Founding Four and the royal family. You don't need to concern yourself with these affairs," he sighed, letting his hair down – his blond hair fell around his face, loose and wavy. It was surprising, but his undone hair did not make him look any more feminine – possibly because he already had rather feminine features in the first place, but Miku suddenly thought that he looked nice with his hair down. Not that she would ever tell him that. He was already more than aware of his own good looks.

The prince started towards his bed, then turned and looked back at her. "Why are you still standing there?" he asked, a curious lilt in his voice. "Come to bed. It's getting late, and if you don't wake up in time for breakfast Gumi will lose her head," he added, sounding surprisingly serious. Miku didn't think she wanted to know what Gumi would be like if she "lost her head". It didn't sound pleasant.

But if she left, the prince would no doubt notice the velvet box on the ground and see the sapphire ring on her finger. What could she do? "I'll come in a while," she answered, meeting his gaze. "I think I might want to visit the bathing chamber before I retire for the night. Why don't you rest first?"

He just stared at her. Suddenly, he walked towards her and stopped right before her, his gaze never leaving hers – she wanted to back away, but the desk was blocking her. "You were looking through my things, weren't you?" he demanded, narrowing his eyes. "Don't you know that there are certain boundaries that shouldn't be crossed, even if we are engaged? I saw _that_ the moment I came in," he nudged the velvet box with his foot, "I just wanted to see if you would confess to what you did. What do you have to say for yourself?"

She hated to apologise to him, but she knew that she was in the wrong here. "I apologise for my rudeness," she said stiffly, edging away from him. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer to him, and ignored her protests as he studied the silver ring on her left hand. Her heart sank in trepidation, and she didn't look up at his face – she didn't want to know what sort of expression he would be wearing. "Let me go," she whispered, wishing that he had come in just a minute later…

"This ring belonged to my fiancée," the prince suddenly spoke, abruptly dropping her hand. To her surprise, he didn't sound angry, merely resigned. "I hate it when people look through my things, and the last time someone touched this box…I lost my temper quite spectacularly, and even now I am rather ashamed of my past behaviour. So I won't get angry at you. But I hope you won't touch the items in that drawer again," he crouched, picking the velvet box up from the floor. "They have great sentimental value to me. You can wear the necklace, the bracelet and the earrings if you want. But don't touch the two rings."

"I am not interested in jewellery," she answered, taking the ring off and handing it back to him. She was secretly thankful that he did not say anything more about the matter. He made no comment on that statement, instead carefully putting the ring back in the box and placing it in the drawer, where it belonged. He stared at the desk for a while, expression distant, and Miku waited for him to say or do something, not wanting to move and attract his attention. Finally, he let out another sigh.

"I'm not upset. Well, not exactly. But don't do that again," he lifted his gaze to her, looking very serious. "You are my fiancée. Whatever you want from me, you simply have to ask for it and I will give it to you if it is within my means to do so. But don't touch my things without permission, that is all I want in return," he looked steadily at her until she nodded in assent, and he held out his hand, waiting for her to take it. "Come to bed with me," he murmured. Reluctantly, she went with him.

Tonight, thankfully, he did not snake his arms around her waist and draw her close to him. She could practically feel him thinking beside her, but she was glad that he was giving her some personal space for once. She wouldn't be surprised to know he was thinking of his dead fiancée, and she suddenly wondered if he saw this dead girl whenever he looked at her. Was that perhaps one reason why he proposed to her, out of all those other girls desperately vying for his attention? She hoped not.

Everyone clearly thought she was dead. Hatsune Miku no longer existed, at least not in the minds of most. The last thing she wanted was to constantly be compared to a girl who really was deceased. Miku was definitely alive, and she wanted the prince to know that too. She did not intend to remain at the palace for long, but even for the few weeks or months she stayed here, she would make it clear to him – she was definitely not a replacement for anyone. And he'd best not see her that way either.

Len didn't know how he felt about his fiancée's snooping around. Of course he was angry about her lack of respect for his privacy, but on the other hand he couldn't bring himself to scold her or even raise his voice at her. The Dowager Duchess's words, the state she was in when he found her in the cellar…those were strong words, strong images. They didn't let him treat her the way he would normally treat anyone else. Why did he care so much about her when he really had no reason to do so?

But seeing that ring again brought back memories. He hadn't touched that drawer or those rings in a long time, knowing that if he looked at them again he would just be overwhelmed with bittersweet memories and dreams of what could have been. The ring fit so perfectly on Cinderella's finger that for a moment, he was reminded of Rin. Not that Cinderella looked anything like her, of course. Their personalities were practically polar opposites too – Rin was sweet, agreeable and gentle. Cinderella was headstrong and stubborn, her green eyes blazing with determination. They were nothing alike.

Yet that ring on her finger…he felt a pang go through his chest and abruptly, he turned over so that his back would face Cinderella. He stared out at the wall, wondering if he would be able to fall asleep tonight. He could hear from Cinderella's breathing – and from her constant fidgeting – that she had yet to sleep as well, and thought it was such a strange coincidence that neither one of them were able to rest well. He wasn't even in the mood to talk to her right now. Trying to find out more about her identity was the last thing on his mind. Why did she have to put that ring on?

Cinderella shifted again, and he could feel the mattress sinking slightly as she adjusted her weight and position. He turned his head a little to stare at her, and saw that she was facing away from him too, her back stiff. She had blown out the lamp before following him to sleep, but he could just barely make out her figure in the darkness, and his gaze traced the shape of her back. She was so slender – was she naturally petite, or did she not have enough to eat back in the mansion? He wouldn't be surprised if she really was forced to starve at home, given her confinement in the cellar.

Len could not deny that he cared for her. If he had not seen her in such a state maybe he would not care quite as much, but there was something about her which tugged at his conscience and he would feel horrible about himself if he treated her callously. Maybe his task would be easier if he didn't _feel_ about her, but he did, and now he had to figure out a way to balance his intentions. He had to push her into a corner, but at the same time he didn't want to make her thoroughly miserable.

He turned, slowly reaching out a hand and placing it on her arm. He felt her stiffen against him. "Cinderella?" he called tentatively, wondering if she would respond or if she'd just pretend that she was asleep. After a moment, she turned her head slightly, staring at him and waiting for him to continue. He exhaled. "Is there really nothing you can tell me about yourself? I am not asking for your name," he added quickly. "Just…something about yourself, about your background. We're engaged, so surely we both have the right to know something more about each other, do we not?"

For a moment it seemed as though the girl would go back to ignoring him, but to his surprise she shifted and turned to face him, nudging his hand off her upper arm in the process. "What do you want to know, then?" she asked quietly, tone neutral. Len had to think about it – he did not expect her to acquiesce to his request, or at least not so quickly. Maybe she did not intend to answer?

"Tell me about your family. About your parents, back in Veracent," he requested. She paused, as though hesitant. "Or at least as much as you're willing to tell me," he added. She continued to remain silent for a while, and Len wondered if she would actually say anything, or if she would just ignore him until one of them finally fell asleep. But suddenly, he heard her voice in the darkness.

"My mother is far away from me now. I miss her, but I cannot go back to see her. She always wanted the best for me," her voice was wistful. "That's why she sent me to live with my aunt, you see. She thought that by leaving Veracent, I might have a better future…" her words trailed off, and he waited patiently for her to continue. "My father, I miss him as well. I had a happy childhood, growing up. They were the best parents anyone could have asked for. I was so sheltered that I never thought of leaving them, even after I grew older. But they sent me away last year, and now here I am."

"What was it like for you, coming to Ossyria? I understand that the culture of Veracent is fairly different from ours," he mentioned. Veracent was a country where the military held great power – they had few natural resources, and relied heavily on Ossyria to supply them with food and other materials. In exchange, Veracent provided Ossyria with soldiers and mercenaries, which was definitely an advantage as the Veracent military was one of the most powerful in the world.

"It was very different. It was like coming to a whole new world," her answer was very quiet. "I was lost for a while, unsure about what to do and how to survive here, even in my aunt's house. And it did not help that my cousins were antagonistic towards me. Perhaps they thought that I took their mother's attention away from them, though I strongly assure you that this was not the case," her bitterness startled him. "But I am no longer living with them, so I suppose that is a good thing."

"You do not seem particularly happy about living in the palace either," the observation slipped out of his mouth, and he instantly wished he could take back his words. He probably should not have said that to his fiancée. He could feel Cinderella staring at him, and knew that he couldn't withdraw his statement now. "I am not as oblivious as you think, and I noticed because…wasn't this what you wanted? A nobleman to marry? And now that you have what you wanted, you seem…unhappy."

Maybe he was reading too much into her actions and her expressions, but deep down he knew he wasn't. Cinderella took her time to reply, mulling over his words, and he waited patiently for her to say something. It was rare for her to be this open – perhaps it was due to the late hour. He ought to take advantage of her sudden willingness to talk to him. "I am not _unhappy_ ," she finally spoke up. "I am just… I wish I could venture out of the palace grounds and see more of the world. That is all I want, truly. My aunt rarely let me out of the mansion for fear that I would get lost, so I never really had a chance to see the town or any place besides the mansion itself. And it feels the same here."

He blinked. "If that's the case you simply have to ask me," he answered. "I would allow you to leave the palace any time you wanted to. It was not my intention to make you feel like a prisoner," he sighed, then shifted a little closer to her, wondering if she would retreat from him. To his surprise, she did not. "You did mention this before, didn't you? I remember you asked if I would allow you to leave the palace and travel the world. But I told you no," he paused. Cinderella said nothing in the meantime. "I still don't want you to leave Temane. Lord knows what will happen if you travel around by yourself. You are a lady – it would be extremely dangerous for you, and I'm sure you know that," he added.

"But it is my wish to see the world," she answered, and he was surprised to hear her voice trembling a little. "Even back in Veracent my life was sheltered. My parents were protective of me. When I came here, I thought it would be a chance for me to finally see and experience more, but my aunt rarely let me leave the mansion. I do not wish to be locked up all my life. Surely you can empathise with that?"

He could. He knew what it was like to want to see the world, to travel and meet new people. He understood that yearning all too well – that was why he agreed when Rin asked him for permission to leave the country, and look how that ended up. He and Cinderella may not have any feelings for each other – at least, he knew he didn't love _her_ – but he couldn't lose another fiancée. It was a thought he didn't even wish to entertain. "But it's dangerous for you, and you know it," he answered firmly. She did not reply, and he exhaled, suddenly tired. "This is not something we should talk about now. We can have this discussion some other time. It is late now, and we ought to get some rest before morning comes."

Cinderella mumbled something inaudible in response and turned around so that her back was facing him once more. He wasn't sure if she was upset or not, but he didn't want to push his luck with her today – she had been surprisingly cooperative for once – and he shifted away from her, giving her some personal space. Closing his eyes, he tried to get some sleep, with the hopes that he would not once again dream of his dead beloved. On one hand, he loved to see her again, but on the other it killed him to awaken from his dreams. Having a sleeping girl beside him failed to make the situation any better. Exhaling, he thought over Cinderella's words and prayed for a dreamless rest.

* * *

Len was rather surprised to see that Cinderella was still in his bed, when Gumi came to wake him up in the morning. In fact, she was sleeping so soundly that Gumi temporarily gave up on trying to rouse her. She appeared to be in a very deep sleep, and as Len stared at her, he couldn't help but notice how pretty she was when she was at rest. She was curled up on the bed, chest rising and falling evenly, her long, dark eyelashes stark against her fair skin. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that she looked like an angel, come down from the heavens above. A pity that she was such a spitfire while awake…

"You seem mesmerised," Gumi observed, proffering a tray of muffins. Len hastily looked away from his slumbering fiancée, grabbing one of the muffins. It was nice and warm, just how he liked it. Gumi was now pouring out tea for him, as he got out of bed and changed out of what he wore last night. Gumi was completely unabashed by this – she had seen him half-naked before enough times that his appearance didn't affect her at all. By right Gumo should be the one waking him up in the morning, but Gumi insisted on doing this part of her brother's job because Gumo was too soft-hearted – he'd just allow the prince to sleep the entire day if he wanted to, and everyone knew that. Gumo was loyal to Len and would do whatever Len wished. That was actually why Len did not give him much to do.

He appreciated Gumo's loyalty and his willingness to help him, but at the same time he didn't want his butler to wait on him hand and foot. He wasn't _born_ into the life of royalty. Back before he was adopted by the king, he had been rich but he didn't have servants who would do absolutely anything and everything he asked them to do – after all, their first loyalty was to his father, not to him. He didn't pay them. It was very different here, since most of the servants wouldn't even dare to look in his direction if he did not give them explicit permission to do so. Gumi was the only exception.

The head servant's bluntness, the way she never held back her comments despite his royal status, was actually rather refreshing. He liked talking to Gumi, though there were still things he would talk to only Gumo about. Gumo was his butler after all, even if he was less strong-willed than his twin sister. "I am not," he retorted, buttoning up his white shirt. He went to the dresser and pulled out a black ribbon, using it to tie up his hair today. He couldn't help sneaking another glance at Cinderella though, and the sharp-eyed Gumi noticed that, though she didn't say anything about it this time.

She thought that it was rather obvious that the prince was attracted to the sleeping girl. Gumi did not pretend to understand why he proposed to her – everyone in the palace knew that he was still obsessed with his dead fiancée – but she was quite sure that there was an ulterior motive for what he was doing now. Nevertheless, she could definitely see that the prince, at the very least, felt some kind of physical attraction towards Cinderella. Who would blame him? She was beautiful.

Gumi almost felt bad about waking her up, but she had to do her job. She decided to try one more time while the prince busied himself with his morning routine, shooting Cinderella discreet glances the entire time. "Your Highness," Gumi called, reaching out to shake the princess's shoulder. The slumbering girl mumbled something inaudible and turned over, edging away from Gumi. Gumi tried not to smile and shook her shoulder again. "Your Highness, you need to wake up for breakfast!"

Cinderella muttered something again, and this time Gumi could make out something that sounded like "go away". Gumi was quite sure, at this point, that Cinderella was at least somewhat awake. "You need to get up, otherwise the prince will force you up himself," she warned, glancing at the aforementioned prince – Kagamine Len raised an eyebrow at her and grabbed his tea, turning away from them. He might pretend to be nonchalant about the whole thing, but Gumi knew better.

The warning appeared to work. The princess's eyelids fluttered, and she slowly opened her eyes, looking extremely unhappy about being woken up. "Gumi," she spoke, her voice so faint that the servant could barely hear her now. She had a lot more energy while she was sleep talking. "Gumi, what time is it?" she asked, her voice a soft whisper. Her teal hair was sprawled out over the white pillows, framing her face like some kind of vibrant halo. It made her look incredibly ethereal.

But it wasn't surprising that the prince's new fiancée was beautiful. The prince himself was very handsome, after all. They made quite a pair. "It is nine in the morning, Your Highness," she told her, trying to hide a grin when Cinderella frowned, obviously confused. "The prince is already up and getting ready. Breakfast will be served shortly, so it would be best for you to get ready as well. Do you need me to assist you with changing, princess?" she offered, noticing that she was wearing the nightdress Gumi had first chosen for her. How odd, since she was the one who had not wanted to wear it initially…

"No, no, I can change by myself," Cinderella answered groggily, sitting up in bed. The thin straps of the silk nightgown slid down her milky arms, and the princess yawned, clearly not realising just how sensual she looked right then. Gumi glanced at the prince and saw that he was firmly looking away from the bed, clutching tightly on to his teacup. She wanted to laugh, but it would be highly inappropriate for someone of her standing, so she held her laughter in. "Where is he, anyway? I don't see him…"

"Right there, Your Highness," Gumi waved a hand towards the corner where the prince was standing, resolutely refusing to look at his fiancée. Cinderella frowned in his direction. "I shall ask him to leave while you change, so you need not worry," she reassured the girl. Cinderella then nodded, clearly satisfied by that, and Gumi turned towards the prince, ushering him out of the room. He left, and when Gumi closed the door she noticed that he seemed fidgety. She shook her head, amused.

This just went to show that the prince, for all his grief, was _very_ much attracted to someone else. Perhaps it was a sign that he was ready to move on, even if he did not think so himself.


	22. Chapter 22

Miku was trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, which was really extremely difficult, given the fact that her teal hair stood out like a sore thumb against the clean, white palace walls. But she didn't want anyone to notice that she was going, once again, to the abandoned palace wing.

The king had already caught her wandering around a few times, and she was sure he was feeling rather suspicious about her intentions, though he had yet to say anything to her or the prince…or at least, she didn't think he had said anything. The king returned to the palace a few days ago, and thankfully he did not comment on how she did not end up getting paired with a governess – perhaps he was more easy-going than she had thought him to be. Or maybe the prince was just extremely persuasive. Either way, the matter of her education was dropped, for which she was grateful.

In return, she had to accompany the prince wherever he went, but she thought that was a small price to pay for her freedom. A governess would do nothing but constantly look over her shoulder, harping on about languages, etiquette and other aristocratic things she had learnt when she was a child. She had better things she could do with her time, and exploring the abandoned palace wing was one of them. She was quite determined to find the secret passageway Gumo had mentioned.

The prince had been rather busy lately. She only ever saw him in the mornings, when they got up from bed, and at night, when he retired to his chambers. He said nothing about how he was spending his time, and she did not ask either, though the air between them was always tense with unacknowledged friction. She couldn't help but be curious about his absences – she hardly even saw him around the palace, and even though she did not love him she still wondered about the whereabouts of her fiancé – and she wished there was a way to ask without sounding concerned.

She only accompanied him around the palace, and nowadays he wasn't around most of the time so she was largely free. At first he had forced her to entertain guests along with him whenever they came to the palace, but recently there had been no visitors and the prince himself was leaving the palace grounds, so she was now making full use of her time. "I cannot believe that the abandoned palace wing is so big," she muttered, turning around and surveying the long corridor behind her.

Would it not make more sense to tear the whole structure down, since it was hardly used anymore? It made her wonder what sort of activities were held in here – Gumo did say that the wing was opened up on occasion, but he did not say what kind of occasions those were, and she was left to speculate. The treasury was here, that she knew, but she had not come across it yet. Instead, all she saw was emptied rooms, filled with the barest wooden structures – an empty bedframe, a broken chair, a dusty old wardrobe. Occasionally one of the rooms she came across would seem to be more functional than the rest, with a made mattress and clean walls and windows, but at the same time no one appeared to live there. This old wing gave her a very strange feeling; she couldn't explain it.

It was as though the very air itself was different here. Again, it wasn't something she could explain – it was more of a feeling than fact, something which was alerting her intuition. The atmosphere here made her skin prickle, as though there was constantly something _watching_ her – but at the same time it was not a frightening feeling. It was as if whatever was watching her was…neutral, perhaps even benevolent, rather than some malicious force. She never felt like she was in danger here.

She walked through an old, beautiful stone arch, that led out from the current floor she was on into the courtyard beyond. She always thought that the palace was huge, but the abandoned wing evidently let out into another part of the palace grounds which, just like the wing itself, seemed to be used very little. The courtyard was overgrown with ivy and weeds, but even then it made such a lovely, picturesque sight – the ivy twined its way up marble pillars, the weeds growing through patterned gaps in the stone courtyard. She turned around, surveying the area, and saw that on each of the four sides of the courtyard there was a building. Just how much of the old palace had been left to ruin, like the first wing with its many empty rooms and treasury? There was so much…space.

She was not afraid here. The air was fresh and clean despite how old and ruined the place was, and the surroundings made her wonder what it was like in the past, before the civil war in Ossyria tore the state apart and destroyed so much of the royal palace. The civil war had been a time of great turmoil and suffering – she did not know much about it, having been born when the war was beginning to die down, but she knew enough about it from her history lessons. The throne changed hands three times during the war, and eventually it stayed with the current ruler, Kamui Gakupo, who had been their king for the past eight years. He was a good, just ruler, Miku knew that.

The civil war was a result of the many nobles in Ossyria rising up to stake a claim to the throne. The original king of Ossyria died without a heir when she was very young – six years old, if she got her history right. The throne then went to his first cousin, who was a weak and ineffectual ruler, his only concern being money and how to get more of it. Eventually, a high-ranking general from the Ossyria military staged a coup and overthrew the weak king, establishing himself as the new ruler. However, he was harsh and strict, and unpopular with the people. In the end, the other nobles planned an assassination and killed him one night, effectively ending his legacy and disbanding the military – which was why today, Ossyria did not have a strong army of its own and relied heavily on Veracent.

After the assassination of the military king, the Four Founding Families of Ossyria all placed a claim to the throne – well, all of them did, except her father, who at that point had no interest in the title of royalty. Her mother passed away two years before the Founding Four began competing for the throne – she remembered those times, though back then she had not understood what was going on – and her father never fully recovered from the blow. Not that he had much interest in being the king of Ossyria in the first place. In fact, it was only in hindsight that she realised, her family actually was once direct related to the throne, and if her father had pressed that claim, she'd be the princess.

But she was glad he did not stake that claim. By that point, he had already married her stepmother, and the last thing she wanted was for her stepfamily to be part of the royal family. It was the last thing Anastasia and Lucinda deserved – though they dared not do anything to her while her father was still alive, she always knew they disliked her and envied the privileges she had enjoyed ever since her childhood, and in return she was never too fond of them. They fawned on her when her father was around, and grew cold and hateful when his back was turned. She saw through that.

Then her father died. She drew in a deep, shaky breath, then shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. This was the last thing she wanted to think about when she was alone in a neglected courtyard, trying to find a secret pathway out of her glided prison. She had better things to do than to just think about sentiment and the past. They were important – her past, her family, her dead parents were all important to her – but for now, she had to focus on the present. Her grieving had ended six years ago, and she was not about to start again. Gritting her teeth, she decided to look through the wing directly opposite her and made her way carefully across the courtyard, half-expecting something to just pop out at her at any moment. After all, this place was abandoned…the air itself was strange.

But nothing shocked her on the way to the other side, and she made her way across the courtyard without any problem. She gazed at gaping doorway with the high stone arch, knowing that if she went inside and began to just look around she might very well get lost, but at the same time she was aware there was no real risk to her safety. If she was not back in the palace by the evening, someone would come to find her, and she thought Gumo would be intelligent enough to guess where else she might be if not the library. For some reason, she trusted the butler to keep her wanderings a secret.

The interior of this new wing was slightly different from the previous one. For one thing, where the previous wing had a rich red wallpaper which matched the interior of the palace itself – the deep, velvet burgundy was the only thing that made the abandoned wing seem anywhere near _alive_ – the walls here were a vibrant, deep indigo. She blinked, slightly disoriented by the abrupt change in colour, but her eyes gradually adjusted to all the purple and she looked around, having to squint slightly to see in the dim light. Besides the wallpaper, this wing looked just like the previous one.

Perhaps the hidden passageway would be in here somewhere. She drifted through the long corridor, glancing around in the hopes of spotting something which would indicate a concealed doorway, but the rooms were once again bare and empty, and it did not help that she had no idea what exactly she was searching for. Eventually, she reached a corner and looked down the other passage – there was only one door at the very end, and when she went to try the door she found that it was locked.

She frowned. A locked door? Perhaps it was the treasury…though Gumo had made it sound like it was in the red wing. Maybe he had spoken mistakenly. She would like to try and open the door, but there was no key and she was not exactly a master lockpicker, so she left the door alone. Most likely there was a reason why the door was kept shut, and she didn't want to get involved in anything that was not directly related to her goals and aspirations. Resignedly, she turned away from the door.

This wing was smaller than the red one, with only two floors in total. She looked through the next floor and saw that there was nothing of interest either – in fact, unlike the bottom floor, the second one was littered with dust and debris, and she quickly went back down the stairs, covering her face with her hands and trying not to cough too loudly. She went back the way she came and found herself back in the old courtyard, looking at the other buildings once more. What a mysterious place.

"Cinderella?" a familiar voice called her name, and she turned around, her heart suddenly racing in her chest. She felt guilty, as though she had been caught doing something that she wasn't meant to do, but she reminded herself that there was nothing wrong with her wanderings and she wasn't breaking the law in any way. The prince stared at her, emerging from the building that stood to her right, and she fidgeted while he walked over to her, tilting his head quizzically. "What are you doing here?" he asked when he was standing right in front of her, a faint frown on his face. "You shouldn't even know about this place…but I suppose you won't tell me the reason why you're wandering around here, no matter how many times I ask," he added in a surprising moment of realisation.

She stared mutely back at him, a petulant scowl on her face, and the prince sighed, holding out his hand. "Well, keep your silence if you must. I shall not probe any further – since you're my fiancée, you technically do have permission to go wherever you like on the palace grounds. But I'd prefer it if you'd stay away from the old palace wing," he continued as she hesitantly placed her hand in his, "it's not exactly the safest part of the palace and if you get lost here, who knows how long it'd take to find you," he turned them away from the old buildings, going back across the courtyard.

Miku was tempted to dig in her feet and stubbornly insist on staying here to explore further, but she did not want to field the prince's questions. She had no doubt that he would want to stick with her if she wished to remain in the old wing, and the last thing she wanted was for Prince Romeo to realise that she was searching for a secret pathway out of the palace. That would just raise a whole bunch of unnecessary questions, and make her inevitable escape all that much harder for herself. "If I am discouraged from wandering around the old palace wing, then why are you here yourself?" she was lagging a little behind him as he practically towed her out of the courtyard. The prince paused.

He turned his head a little, regarding her with thoughtful blue eyes. It was one of the rare few times she saw him being anything other than snarky or sarcastic around her, and she was actually rather surprised that he would seriously consider her question, rather than just toss her some flippant remark. "The old wings store many things," he answered cryptically, "and I was just checking up on one of those things that I am responsible for. It's not anything you need to be concerned about," he added pointedly.

"I was simply asking," she retorted, the sharpness of her tone an automatic reaction to what had sounded very much like an accusation. "Please don't flatter yourself into thinking that I am in _any way_ interested in your affairs. I am your fiancée," her lips curled into a thin smile, "but until I have an official title, the affairs of the royal family are not my concern. Are they now, Your Highness?"

"You need not make it seem like that won't ever happen," the prince sounded like he wanted to roll his eyes. " _You_ are the one who keeps postponing the wedding – we had this discussion with the king only last night, and you insisted on having the ceremony at the very end of the year although it'd be winter by then, and everything would be bloody freezing. I wanted the wedding held next month, but you refused, and I must admit that I'm beginning to wonder if there's any reason why you hesitate to let the wedding ceremony take place."

She caught herself before she said something she might regret. For all their barbed exchanges, she still needed him – if he decided to cancel their engagement, she would be sent back to the Hatsune manor, and that was definitely the last thing she wanted. She would pander to him for now, and once she had gained his trust and he stopped being so suspicious of her all the time, she would be able to flee from the palace.

Those questions he asked her, that night he caught her wearing his ex-fiancée's ring, ended up raising questions of her own in her mind. He had observed that she was not happy about being stuck in the palace, which was something she hadn't expected him to notice. She always assumed that he was rather self-centred since he was royalty after all, and weren't all aristocrats self-centred? But he was proving all her assumptions to be false, and that made her feel nervous. Who knew what other things he might have picked up about her? She worried about what her habits and manner of speech might possibly reveal about her background.

"There is no reason," she finally responded, choosing her words as carefully as possible. "It's just that I enjoy winter, and I love seeing snow fall, so if it's possible I'd love to have my wedding during this season. Is there anything wrong with that?" she turned her face towards him, blinking her eyes innocently, and the prince stared at her for a moment before he shook his head and glanced away, muttering something inaudible. She felt confident that for now, he would not ask her any other questions.

Len very much wanted to ask more questions, but her limpid green eyes made him forget, for just a moment, what he had wanted to ask. Those bright eyes, normally so fiery and defiant, determined never to give in to him for anything, were suddenly soft and wide, framed by her dark, long lashes. The way she looked up at him from underneath her eyelashes, combined with the pout of her full, pink lips, made him weaken just a little, even though that wasn't something he would ever admit to anyone. He didn't want her to know that she had any kind of hold over him. He was the one supposed to be affecting her, and not vice-versa. Was it not already bad enough that he cared about her, no matter how reluctantly?

He wanted to know why Cinderella was even in the abandoned palace wing in the first place, but he guessed that she wasn't going to tell him, and for now questioning her would be utterly futile – it would make more sense to try when she was more vulnerable, perhaps at night. Len was curious to know what she was up to. This part of the abandoned wing, the ruined old courtyard where he ran into her, was not an area someone would just happen to stumble across. People only found this place through persistent exploration, meaning Cinderella was probably searching for something here…but what could it be?

His fiancée had always been rather suspicious. For now, he doubted that her intentions, whatever they may be, were hostile or dangerous, but he would keep an eye on her and if anything seemed out of the ordinary, he would definitely investigate – though as of now, he wasn't sure how he would pry information out of her. Cinderella was dreadfully stubborn. He was barely making any progress with regards to discovering her true identity, let alone whatever possible plans she might have in store for the royal family. He was sure she was here with an agenda, but did that agenda involve him?

"So why do you like winter?" he veered their conversation towards that direction, hoping to find out more about his secretive wife-to-be. He was leading her through the red wing now, the building which would bring them back to the main palace. He made a mental note to discuss the issue of this abandoned section of the palace with his father – they really ought to do something about these old buildings, so that people like Cinderella wouldn't be able to just go in and out whenever they pleased. Those four buildings held many dark secrets, and it was extremely risky to just leave them as they were.

"Well, don't you think it's a very pretty season?" his fiancée answered, sounding rather wistful. He was surprised to hear anything besides stinging sarcasm coming out of her mouth, and had to glance at her to make sure that he wasn't mishearing her. There was a dreamy look in her eyes, her expression distant, as though she was watching something he personally could not see. "The white snow falls and covers everything in a thick, soft blanket, and the whole place looks so pure and pristine. But if you think about it," she turned towards him, intense green gaze capturing his – he found that he could not tear his eyes away. "If you think about it, anything that sleeps beneath that blanket will be cold and lifeless. Snow is both beautiful and destructive," she smiled. "Just like women, don't you agree?"

"Just like you, you mean?" he supplied, tilting his head, secretly glad when her smile widened and she looked away from him once more. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach as he wondered why nowadays, he seemed to be getting more and more affected by her presence. It all started that day she put on Rin's ring and answered his questions with surprising vulnerability – ever since then, he'd become more aware of her every movement, and it was doing strange things to his concentration. He could be looking through tax returns and palace records at his father's behest and suddenly, Cinderella would waltz through his mind like a sinful angel, with those sparkling green eyes and a taunting smirk on her face. She was both innocence and deception combined into one capricious being, and it was frustratingly alluring.

Not that he was romantically interested in her in any way. She was just beautiful to look at, and her fiery temper and stubborn secretiveness just added to her charm. Len was very certain that he was in no way attracted to his betrothed. The last thing he wanted was to be involved with her beyond the scope of his duties – he simply had to convince her to reveal her true identity, and then they would both be on their merry way, never having to face each other ever again. It was a nice thought.

To be honest, her presence was one reason why nowadays, he spent less time in his own chambers doing his work. He usually made his way to his father's study, knowing that he would not be able to focus at all if he was anywhere near his fiancée. He supposed that she was glad for his absence, especially since she never bothered asking him where he went, though he did wish that she would be slightly more worried about him. Didn't he matter at all to her? Or was he really just a means to some unknown end?

"Are you very busy nowadays?" her voice startled him, and he almost jumped, glancing around at her. She was looking quizzically at him now, head slightly tilted, green eyes studying him closely. "It's not that I am particularly interested in your affairs, but you're coming back to your chambers rather late nowadays and it causes quite a ruckus when you open the door, so maybe you could be considerate for once, and keep quiet when you return in the future," she continued snippily, looking away now that she knew she had his attention. Len found a small smile tugging at his lips – oh, so she did notice his absence after all.

"I'm not extremely busy," he chose to ignore the rest, focusing on only the first part of what she said. "I just find that for a variety of reasons, I work better when I'm not in my room. And as the prince, I _do_ have duties I need to fulfil," he didn't intend to sound accusatory here, and he wasn't sure why his tone sharpened either, but Cinderella flinched back as though he had yelled at her and he immediately regretted his words. "I'm not implying that you're not making full use of your time…"

"It hardly matters what you're implying," Cinderella retorted, turning her head sharply away from him. "It's true that I just squander away my time here, so even if that _was_ what you meant, I can't say anything about it. That's why I'm wandering around the palace, isn't it? Because I have nothing else better to do?" she lifted her gaze to him, eyes filled with defiance, and he held back a deep sigh.

"Then perhaps I ought to give you something to do?" he mused, frowning a little. Cinderella sniffed but said nothing else, and the two of them resumed their walk back to the palace in silence. Len spent the rest of the evening wondering about his fiancée and what he could possibly do to entertain her.

* * *

Evidently, Prince Romeo was not joking about giving her something to do. Miku gaped at the huge piles of old papers scattered on the desk as the prince tapped his foot against the floor, waiting for her to sit. She turned to stare at her fiancé. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

The prince raised an eyebrow, his smug grin doing nothing to soothe her aggravation. If only she could reach out to wipe that horrible smirk off his face. "Well, you said that you had little else to do, which was why you just ended up wandering around all the time. I decided that you could help the palace librarian with his work and archive all these documents by year of completion, since you clearly like to read – it's enough work to occupy you for a few days at least, and you can find out more about Ossyrian history while you're at it. Don't you think it's a good bargain?" he asked, that smug smile widening.

Miku was now very tempted to hit the prince, but she was fairly sure that doing so would amount to treason and she'd probably end up in prison or something. She might be his fiancée, but she was taking no chances with her freedom. "You're just doing this to spite me," she seethed, folding her arms across her chest. The prince shook his head, then stepped forward to catch her chin with his fingers. She tried to shake his hand off, but he held fast, jerking her head upwards so that she'd have to look at him. Green eyes clashed with deep blue, and the two of them watched each other silently.

He was the first to break the tension between them. "I would never do anything to spite you," his tone was calm and even. "I'm your husband-to-be, and that means that anything I do is for your own sake, even if you don't see it yourself. Why would I want to aggravate you when you are the girl who will be my wife, and the future queen of Ossyria?" he smiled thinly, then let go of her. She stepped back, glaring at him the whole time, and he gave her an unruffled smile. "Those papers are bound to be interesting. There's a lot of information about Ossyria's past in there, especially the history of the Four Founding Families. Since you were so interested in that topic the previous time, it'd be good reading for you."

The prince seemed unlikely to change his mind, and Miku had the feeling that if she didn't get to work Romeo wouldn't let her hear the end of it, so resignedly she sat at the desk and took hold of the first scroll. The thin parchment was so old and fragile that it rubbed off slightly in her hands, the material itself so soft and feathery that it almost seemed to fall apart as she held it. Carefully, she unfurled the scroll and studied the ancient, scratchy handwriting, and the prince watched as she lost herself in the faded words and lost information. He had chosen this job for her because he thought it might interest her, and despite her initial protests, he could see that she was getting absorbed in the content.

It was good that she was distracted. It might prevent her from walking all the way to the abandoned palace wing again, at least for a while. He'd need a long-term solution to her dangerous explorations, but for now this would suffice. "I'll leave you to your work; the librarian will be grateful for your assistance," he spoke softly, careful not to startle her out of her concentration, and she didn't give any sign to indicate that she had heard him. Slowly, he ducked out of the room, closing the door behind him, and headed to the room right opposite hers so that he might hear her if she decided to slip outside.

Cinderella was in his old study, the one right opposite his father's room. He used to do his work in there until he got tired of his father's near-constant surveillance – the king always seemed to think that Len was getting ready to kill himself – and he decided to move his desk and papers to his own chambers. But the old study was still there and functional, and in hindsight it was highly convenient that he had left it fully furnished. It was a good way to check on his fiancée without being actually _there_ , but he still hoped that eventually he wouldn't have to monitor her all the time. It would be nice to be able to trust Cinderella, but how could he trust her when he didn't even know her name?

The door to his old study was a little loud since the hinges hadn't been oiled in a while. His father had done that on purpose so that he would be aware of Len's comings and goings in the past, and till this date the hinges were still making that horrible squeaking sound. In fact, as the door swung shut behind him now, he could hear the familiar creak of wood and the shrill scream of the rusty hinges. But at least the door would make it painfully clear if Cinderella ever left the study, and he would be able to check on her then.

Miku found herself, against her will, lost in the old manuscripts. Although she was very certain that the prince had made her do this out of sheer boredom and spite, the scrolls he had forced her to categorise were, indeed, very interesting. He had only told her to archive them by year, but she found some of the titles so fascinating that she unfurled those manuscripts to take a look at what secrets were written inside, and some of the things she was learning were rather…well, interesting, for lack of a better word.

She was certainly getting a lot of knowledge about the Founding Four, especially her own family history and that of the Kagamine family. For some reason, most of the manuscripts seemed to centre around the Kagamines. She shuddered at the thought of the Kagamine Founding Family – out of the Four, they were certainly the wealthiest, but they were also the cruellest. In terms of their fortune, their family outranked even the Hatsune family, but the Kagamines had always ruled over their territory with an iron fist, made worse by their personal army. The Kagamine family was the only one among the Four who had so many mercenaries and private bodyguards protecting them, and it was to ensure that they were never assassinated or revolted against by those who worked their land.

Most of that, she learnt from the manuscripts, which were clearly written many years ago, so she wasn't sure how true or accurate the information was. Perhaps, for some unknowable reason, these were all simply lies fabricated to taint the reputation of the Kagamine family, or maybe they were once true but were now part of the past. Or maybe it was all still true. She didn't know, since these…rumours were not things she was taught while growing up. The manuscript she was currently reading was now saying something about the religious beliefs of the Founding Four, and it was getting just a tad bit dry.

She was becoming bored, and was on the verge of rolling up the manuscript and putting it away in the correct pile, but then her gaze drifted over one sentence and she paused, rereading the sentence to ensure that she wasn't mistaken. Up till that point, the manuscript detailed highly orthodox beliefs about God, the Saviour, angels and the blessed…they were all beliefs she herself was aware of, and there had been nothing particularly special about them. But this one sentence she now read changed everything.

Miku hesitated, wondering if the manuscript was really lying now, if everything that she read was simply some exaggeration or fabrication. It seemed too outlandish to be the truth. Why would the prince want her to read something like this? Or perhaps he simply wasn't aware of what secrets these old documents might hold – the latter seemed more likely. Her finger trailed over that damning sentence, and she swallowed, abruptly rolling the manuscript back up and putting it to one side for further study. She would think about what she read later; for now, she would focus on finishing her task.


	23. Chapter 23

He wasn't sure if he was imagining it, but his fiancée's smile seemed to be a little strained when she met him for supper. Of course, he wasn't gullible enough to believe that she was truly always overjoyed to see him, but he could just tell that there was something… _strange_ about her tonight. She sat opposite him, quietly eating her meal, her thoughts elsewhere.

If he spoke to her, she barely responded, occasionally giving him a nod or making a quiet sound of agreement, but her green eyes were unfocused, and she barely even glanced at him. Len frowned. Something was definitely amiss, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it. Was she perhaps upset that he had forced her to read through all the documents that the librarian wanted categorised? It was, admittedly, a very dry task, but she didn't seem to be complaining about it…unless her silence was some new, passive-aggressive form of protest.

"Cinderella," he tried to catch her attention again, "what's on your mind?" the teal haired girl looked up from her meal and stared blankly at him for a moment. He continued to meet her gaze, wondering if she would actually respond this time, and suddenly she let out a sigh, setting her cutlery down and pushing her half-eaten meal away from her. Gumi and Gumo, who were standing behind his fiancée and waiting to clear the dishes on the table, both gave him quizzical looks.

"It's nothing important," she started, much to his surprise. He didn't think she would actually answer him. "It's simply something I came across this afternoon, while I was reading through the papers that you forced me to look through. One of them said something that I can't quite get off my mind, but it's nothing that would really interest you," she smiled again, another distant smile that didn't seem genuine in the slightest. "You need not worry about it."

"What makes you say that I wouldn't be interested in it?" he replied, frowning. "Anything related at all to Ossyria, no matter how tenuous the link, is something that I am interested in. I am the future king of this country, and I must know everything there is to know, regardless of how small or unimportant the matter appears to be. So, what did you read in those documents that distracts you so greatly?" he leant forward a little, curious to hear what she had to say.

His fiancée sighed. She seemed almost reluctant to speak. "It was a document about the Kagamine family. I'm not sure exactly which manuscript it was, since they were all written so long ago and many of the title pages have faded, making the words difficult to decipher. But I read and understood enough to suspect that the Kagamine family holds unorthodox beliefs related to a defunct religious cult in Ossyria…at least, if those papers were really telling the truth."

Len froze. He met the gaze of his servants, and both Gumi and Gumo were outright staring at him now, clearly wondering how he was going to react. He cleared his throat. "Gumi, Gumo, could you please excuse yourselves for a second?" he asked, glad that his voice didn't waver. The two servants nodded and bowed before they quietly turned, leaving the dining hall. Cinderella blinked, surprised at their abrupt dismissal, but before she could say or ask anything Len coughed, drawing her attention back to him. "What did you read about the Kagamine family?"

Cinderella hesitated. Uncertainly flashed through her green eyes as she deliberated over how much to tell him, and Len was suddenly immensely glad that he had yet to reveal his identity to his fiancée. He had instructed all the servants not to tell her anything if she asked either, some petty part of him not wanting her to know his name if she would not reveal her own. If she knew that he was once a Kagamine, and still used his old family name, then he was sure that she would be even less likely to tell him what she had read. He made a mental note to look through those old documents personally and find the manuscript she spoke of – maybe he would order it destroyed or kept away. He was no longer part of his old family, but the secrets and the oaths he swore would linger with him all the way to his grave.

"Just one sentence. Initially the document spoke of the Kagamine family's reputation and their place among the Founding Four…I assume the papers belonged to some biography about the Founding Families, but I was unable to find the missing pages describing the history of the other three families. The manuscript went only into the history of the Kagamine family, followed by how they rose to power, and how they generally treated their people," she paused. "The things that all those papers revealed did not seem to place the Kagamine family in a very pleasant light…"

Len pretended to be unaffected by that. "The Kagamine family is quite cruel to those who work their lands. It is common knowledge that they are the most vicious and power-hungry family among the Founding Four. And it is only because of his money, his influence and his power over those of the aristocratic class that the Head of the Kagamine family has yet to be overthrown. Though I suspect it might happen one of these days," he commented, suddenly incredibly aware of his heart beating in his chest. Cinderella looked unconvinced, but he pressed on nevertheless. "This is well known to those who live in the neighbouring regions, at least. Of course, you wouldn't be taught such things by your old governesses."

"Perhaps," she acknowledged. "I did not know how much to believe at first, but hearing you admit that they are, indeed, a cruel family…" her voice trailed off into silence. He wanted to prompt her, but he held his tongue – it would not be good if he seemed too eager, that would most likely make her suspicious and that was the last thing he wanted right now. After a few moments, she exhaled and continued to speak. "The manuscripts had a few pages where they spoke of the Kagamine family's religious beliefs. And while most of it was orthodox, there was one sentence, scrawled at the very bottom of the page. At first it looked like part of the actual writing, but then I realised that the handwriting was different, as though it had been added in at a later time by somebody else. And what it said was…thought-provoking."

"What did it say then?" he probed impatiently when Cinderella lapsed into silence once more, clearly thinking over how much to tell him. It was the first time he felt genuinely frustrated, communicating with his fiancée. He wasn't sure if she was being difficult on purpose or not, but either way if he didn't get his answers soon he might lose his mind.

She frowned at him. "You need not be so hasty," she chided, and he nodded, forcing himself to take a deep breath. "The rest of the document stated that the Founding Four, including the Kagamine family, holds traditional beliefs about religion…but that one sentence that was added at the end implied otherwise," she inhaled. "It said, ' _When He rises from fiery shackles into the vessel of flesh and blood, the Order will be rewarded with their deepest desires, and the Kagamine family will rule all Ossyria_ '. This does not seem like a very orthodox belief."

Len tensed. He had never heard that sentence before, but he understood perfectly well what it was referencing and he knew that he could not let his fiancée probe any further. "I'm sure it was simply the ramblings of a madman," he answered smoothly, rising from his chair and walking over to Cinderella. She stiffened at his approached, looking up at him with suspicion in her green eyes, and he wondered how he could defuse the situation. "After all, like you said, it doesn't sound orthodox and frankly, it doesn't sound entirely sane either. What did the writer mean by ' _fiery shackles_ '? It's ridiculous. No self-respecting family would be involved with a cult, would they? And the Kagamines are part of the Founding Four; they'd have even more reason to not be involved with such groups."

"But you said that the Kagamine family is the most power-hungry and vicious, yes?" she checked. "So, it makes sense that they might do something _different_ in order to gain more power. I don't know very much about the Founding Four since I was not born in Ossyria, but I do think that it might be a good idea to investigate what the Kagamine family is doing. Why has no one done so before, since they have such a reputation for violence compared to the other three families?" she argued.

Len placed his hands on the back of her chair and she abruptly fell silent. He could see her breathing, her chest rising and falling, almost as though in panic. Did she suspect that he belonged to the Kagamine family? What else had she read in those papers? He doubted that she was telling him everything she read. Maybe he should have made her do something else instead of sorting through those old manuscripts. "Yes, of course they have been investigated before," he replied, his tone slightly sharper than he intended. "By the Hatsune family, no less. But with the Head of the Hatsune family dead and the bloodline practically extinct, there is no authority who has the right to keep an eye on the other families. The king has great influence but no permission to interfere directly with the affairs of the Founding Four – only the Hatsune family had that right, and they are now all dead. In past reviews, however, the Kagamine family did nothing wrong. Besides, what do you suspect them of doing? Being part of an unrecognised religious cult?"

His fiancée was clearly struggling to come up with a response, and in the end, she let out a sigh. "Yes, I suppose you're right…" she admitted reluctantly. But her green eyes still shone with confusion and unanswered questions. "I don't…I don't know enough about anything in Ossyria to talk about this. But I still think that it's not something that should be so easily dismissed," she continued, looking down at her plate. "If there really is…I can't tell you all that I know, but I've read up on enough religious cults to understand that they are extremely dangerous."

Len stared at her. "You are overthinking things," he said simply. "Stop obsessing over such ridiculous ideas. There are other things that you can focus on instead. If you really wish to read, you might want to read up on politics and trade rather than religious cults," he pointed out, hoping that he didn't sound too harsh or defensive. He would hate to raise any suspicions, and he didn't know enough about what _she_ knew to be certain that his words weren't taken the wrong way. His fiancée bit her lip, but eventually she nodded.

Romeo was right. She was thinking too much into this. It wasn't even anything to do with her – she did have other things to think about. What the Kagamine family was doing with their free time hardly mattered to her. It had been surprising when her fiancé brought up her family – she didn't know that the Hatsune family was allowed to conduct investigations into the other Founding Families – but otherwise, she didn't learn anything new, and perhaps she ought to be grateful that she didn't, either. She was already far too distracted as it was.

It was just…what she knew of the Kagamine family didn't make them sound particularly pleasant, and she dreaded to think of such a family seizing control over the whole of Ossyria. The person who wrote that strange sentence in the manuscript certainly sounded like they thought this was only a matter of time, and she didn't want to witness the current king being overthrown by a bloodthirsty, ruthless, power-hungry Head of Family who was implied to have ties to the Devil. She cared about the welfare of those who lived here, although she wished she did not. Ever since the prince led her through the Peasants' Quarter and she was forced to see the way the less fortunate suffered, some part of her kept thinking about all the possible ways she could try to make their lives better. She hated to see others suffering, knowing all too well what it felt like to be oppressed and miserable, and if it was possible she would make the whole country fair and prosperous, so that everyone could be happy.

If the Kagamine family came into power…the prince himself had admitted that they were not a very pleasant group of people, and she supposed that if they were the new royal family, the peasants in Ossyria would be plunged into greater suffering. She didn't want that to happen – who in their right mind would want that to happen, given how horrible the Kagamine family was reputed to be? But she grudgingly told herself that ultimately, none of this was her problem. She was not truly part of the royal family anyway. She was going to leave, and when that happened, all the politics in Ossyria would have nothing to do with her.

But she decided to ask more, just to sate her own curiosity. "So, who is the head of family for the Kagamines, then?" she turned to meet Romeo's gaze, realising that he looked a little uncomfortable. Perhaps he, too, had come to the realisation that allowing the Kagamine family to hold power would not be a very pleasant scenario. "And why is it that the king has no right to conduct an investigation into their family, anyway? Is he not the most powerful man in Ossyria?"

"He _is_ , but Ossyria is also a nation that believes in fair distribution of power," the prince reminded her. "My father wields great influence but his word is not _absolute_ , at least not in every case. There are laws which exist to keep his power in check, and as a country we are greatly affected by market forces too. The Council of Founders advises the king and serves to regulate his authority, and all four families hold claim to the throne. They would be useless as advisors and potential successors if the king was given absolute power over the Four Families, so within the Council itself, one of the families is appointed to be a _watchdog_ for the Council, a position which is passed on every century. From what I understand, presently the Hatsune family has all right to investigate the other families. That position is due to change hands within three decades or so, and the duty of watchdog will be next given to the Sakine family."

Miku nodded slowly in understanding, but abruptly realised that the prince had avoided her other question – who was the present Head of the Kagamine family? She was never told who it was, or at least if she ever heard the name she had forgotten by now, nor did she remember seeing the man in her youth. She knew that it was likely the Head of the family had paid a visit to her father before – all the Heads of Family often visited each other, since it was so important for the Founding Four to be on good terms with each other – but she truly could not remember who the man was. "And the Head of the Kagamine family?"

She saw the prince pause, as though her question surprised him. He frowned a little, the faintest of creases forming on his smooth forehead, and he glanced at the dinner table, where all their food was still laid out. She waited for him to say something – the prince would definitely know the identity of the Kagamine Head of Family, right? But the prince didn't speak, and as the silence between them gradually became uncomfortable, she wondered if the prince was actually…hiding something from her. His blue gaze seemed shiftier than usual.

"Our supper is getting cold," he suddenly spoke, letting go of her chair and returning to his seat. She opened her mouth to protest, but the prince raised his head and met her gaze, settling languidly into his chair, and she found herself keeping quiet. "You may ask me all these questions after we are done with our meal, but right now I'd like to finish my supper in peace. It'd be disrespectful to the chef if, rather than eating the meal he so painstakingly prepared for us, we were to chat until the food turned cold. Whatever we have to say, it can be said after our supper is eaten," he said firmly.

She pursed her lips, but did not argue with him. He seemed set in his ways – and besides, what he said was logical. Their food would become cold and unpleasant at this rate. She made up her mind to ask him later for the identity of the Kagamine Head of Family, and if he attempted to avoid the question again…perhaps she would ask the king himself. She badly wanted to put a name to the horrible person who could treat his people so viciously – though there was no reason for the prince to avoid answering her innocuous question, was there? She frowned. Perhaps there was more to the prince than she had originally thought…

* * *

Come to think of it, she never did find out his real name. It wasn't something that was constantly on her mind, since she had other things to focus on, but as she mulled over her meal and the way the prince kept avoiding her questions, she realised that she had no idea which family he originally came from. And that made her wonder, just a little.

"Gumi?" she called, watching the servant girl as she bustled around the room, straightening sheets and tidying up the desk. The head servant was preparing their chamber for the night, and Miku was only here watching her because the prince had run off elsewhere right after he was done with his supper, insisting that he still had plenty of work to do and she need not wait up for him tonight. Not that she ever did, anyway. She had no idea where he got the assumption that she would bother waiting for him to return before she went to sleep.

"Yes, Your Highness?" the head servant paused in her meticulous clean-up, turning around to look at her. There was a faint smile on her face, and Miku could swear that she had heard the servant humming to herself while she replaced the blankets on their bed with a fresh, clean set. It seemed as though Gumi truly enjoyed cleaning things, something which Miku would never be able to understand. She had not been forced to do much as a servant in her own household, but even the few tasks she was delegated, she had found to be tedious and bothersome. It was the first time she met someone who actually enjoyed doing such menial work.

"I'd like to ask you something…" she hesitated as the servant tilted her head, staring at her quizzically. The prince might have instructed all the servants not to breathe a single word regarding his identity to her, but it was worth a try, nevertheless. "What is the prince's real name? Where did he come from, before he was adopted by the king?" she finally asked.

She wasn't sure if she had imagined the flash of concern which crossed Gumi's face. "Oh, the name of the prince…?" Gumi echoed, slowly setting down the papers which she had been shuffling. "Well, I'd love to tell you, Your Highness," she gave her a small smile, "but since you refuse to reveal your true name to the prince, he has instructed us to do likewise. No one is allowed to tell you his real identity unless you are willing to divulge yours, Your Highness. Rather petty, especially coming from the prince, but it is not surprising. He has always been a stubborn young man, and he wouldn't give in to anyone for anything!"

Indeed, Miku herself wasn't surprised by what Gumi just said. "What a childish, petty little game to play," she muttered, and Gumi's lips twitched. "But surely there must be _something_ you can tell me about the prince…anything! A tiny detail that would give me just the smallest glimpse into his past," she clasped her hands together, staring intently at the servant. "The only thing I know about my fiancé is that he was adopted by the king a few years ago, and that he used to attend Easton College with the Viscount of Lexane. It is not very much to work with."

"Oh, but you also know of the tragedy which surrounds the young prince," Gumi reminded her. Miku blinked, confused, and the servant continued. "The prince does not often reveal his true name because it is tied too much to his memories of _before_. I would say that he has split his life into two periods – _before_ the tragedy and _after_ , which would be the present. You know that his fiancée is no longer in this world, do you not?" Miku nodded, slightly uncomfortable about hearing this, and Gumi carried on. "That was the pivotal point for our prince. His previous fiancée's passing led to him being adopted by the king. His real name, and any memories associated with his name, serve only to remind him of his previous fiancée's untimely death. And he would very much prefer not to remember any of that."

Basically, the servant had just told her in a very roundabout way that she wasn't going to tell Miku his real name. Miku sighed. "I suppose it's only fair then," she mused, "that he refuses to tell me his real name unless I reveal mine first…but traditions prevent me from saying such a thing until I can trust him fully," she continued, falling back on her lie. Gumi gave her a long, knowing look, and Miku fidgeted, suddenly unnerved by the expression on the servant's face. "I can't just pretend that I wasn't born and raised in Veracent," she defended herself.

"That is true," the servant acknowledged. "But I truly think the prince is rather hurt that even after all this time, you do not seem to trust him. After all, he is your fiancé," Gumi sounded a little like a scolding mother here, "and there will come a time where you have to trust him, whether you want to or not. He may not show that he particularly cares, but my brother and I have served him for three years and, despite his guardedness, we know very well what sort of person he is like. And not being trusted by his fiancée worries him."

Miku almost snorted. "As if he genuinely cares!" she declared, folding her arms across her chest. It was a very unladylike thing to do, she was aware, but at this point she could hardly care less. "He need not pretend that he married me out of any true affection. A blind man could see that he is still obsessed with his previous fiancée – and perhaps I simply do not trust someone who might very well have confused me with someone I'm not. He still says her name in his sleep," she added, a confession which had slipped out of her mouth almost without her knowledge. She pressed her lips together – she hadn't meant to say that.

Gumi's expression softened. "You must give him some time, Your Highness. He and his fiancée were engaged to be married ever since they were children, and it just so happened that he fell in love with her. That is extremely rare in an arranged marriage, so could you blame his heart for shattering when the girl he loved died? And the prince cares about you much more than you think he does. Of all the ladies at the ball wishing to be his bride, he chose you, and showed interest in only you. You may think there is some kind of ulterior motive for that, and I won't say it is impossible, but…he does not look at you the way he looks at other ladies. Your Highness, you should give him more credit for his concern."

Miku blinked. She did not expect Gumi to sound so passionate while defending the prince. The servants in the palace must really be extremely loyal to their master. "I suppose that he does care to some extent…" she admitted slowly. After all, he had bought her new clothes, though then again that might be because it would harm his reputation if his bride was seen in shabby clothes meant more for a servant than an aristocrat. "But he does not make much effort to present himself well, and he has yet to leave a good impression."

The other girl smiled. "Oh, Your Highness, that is simply the way the prince is. He has never been one to outwardly show affection. If you may allow me to give my personal opinion?" Miku nodded, finding it a little strange that Gumi had to ask her before she could speak her mind, but she supposed that was just how royalty were treated. Gumi went on. "The prince, I think, is someone who takes a very, very long time to open up to another person, but when he does feel, he feels deeply. He may not seem particularly emotional, but I know the prince is quite the romantic! Or at least, that is what the librarian says, judging from the prince's taste in fiction," the servant girl added. Miku resisted the urge to laugh – she understood the servant's unspoken words, and wondered if she ought to bring that up to him later.

"So…he must have loved his fiancée very deeply, then," Miku mused. Gumi nodded, and Miku felt curious about what it was like, to fall so intensely in love with another person. She had never been in love before, since prior to the ball and meeting the prince she never really had any opportunity to meet people. Her father had never promised her to anyone, so she never interacted with boys. The men she met were always her father's business acquaintances, who were all much, much older than her. The prince was the first boy her age she knew, but he didn't exactly make the best fiancé. At least not in her opinion.

"But I think that no matter how deeply one loves, it is always possible to move on," Gumi commented, bowing respectfully before she resumed tidying up the room. Miku bit her lip, thinking over the servant girl's last words. Was Gumi trying to say something about who she was to the prince? But she didn't think that the prince felt _that_ way for her – he might care about her to some extent, but she knew it would be impossible for the prince to feel the same way towards her as he did his previous fiancée. After all, she and Romeo barely even knew each other, and there was too much distrust in their relationship for them to…well, become more. At least that was how she felt at this very moment. Could that ever change?

Truthfully, it might. She didn't know what romantic affection felt like, so she had no way of telling if she was attracted to the prince or not, but if she trying to be logical and unbiased about this there was always the possibility that she might really fall for her fiancé. She couldn't deny that. But realistically, it was extremely unlikely, especially given the way he behaved around her. Miku doubted that she would grow to love someone who was always getting on her nerves, taunting her and challenging her with double-edged words and gleaming blue eyes. She wasn't a masochist, and falling for such a person would probably lead to great suffering.

The door swung open then, and Miku and Gumi both turned around to look – it was the prince, who was carrying a whole stack of folders in his arms, and Miku could see that he was exhausted. He was swaying slightly, his normally sharp blue eyes looking a little hazy. "Oh, Gumi," the prince yawned, closing the door behind him. "Are you almost done? I think I'm going to rest soon. I have a lot of work to do tomorrow," he added, walking over to his desk and dumping all the folders on top of it. Miku saw Gumi's look of irritation for just one quick second before the expression disappeared, and she went back to organising the table.

"Yes, I'll be done soon," the head servant answered, picking up folders and placing them neatly in one pile next to the prince's inkwell. The prince yawned again, turning away from the desk and unbuttoning his coat. Miku watched as he slid his arms out of his embroidered coat, tossing the thick, heavy garment onto his chair, and hid a smile as Gumi followed him relentlessly, gathering up the coat and placing it back in the prince's wardrobe. Respectfully, she averted her gaze as the prince began to change into his nightwear, not wanting to get caught looking at him. She felt heat rising to her cheeks at the thought of seeing the prince half-naked, and she wondered why he seemed so comfortable changing in front of two ladies.

Gumi had probably seen him undressed before since she was the head servant, and also the person who woke the prince up in the morning. And probably…he just didn't mind her since she was his fiancée. It didn't make it any less uncomfortable for her though, since she didn't want to ogle him and she felt painfully awkward about seeing him so…indecently. She went on looking downwards, staring intently at her feet, until she felt slim, familiar fingers tilting her chin up. She met the prince's gaze, and he studied her, his blue eyes still filled with tiredness. It was actually the first time she had seen him so weary. Was he always like this after he finished his work, and had she simply never noticed? Usually he only returned to his room when she was about to turn in for the night, so she never paid him very much attention.

"Are you ready for bed? I'd like to sleep now," he whispered, leaning close to her so that he didn't have to raise his voice. She could feel the warmth radiating off him, and a shiver went through her at his proximity. Her cheeks became even warmer, and she took a small step backwards, hoping that the prince wouldn't notice. Thankfully, he seemed too drowsy to really pay much attention to her. She truly had never seen him so tired before, which made her suspect that he had worn himself out on purpose to avoid being questioned by her.

He couldn't possibly escape her forever though, so she would start on him tomorrow morning. Gumi, who was finally done with keeping the prince's daytime clothes away, turned and bowed to them. "Goodnight, Your Highnesses," she murmured, and then she quietly left the room, closing the door behind her. Miku suddenly grew aware of the fact that she was now alone with the prince, something that even now, she was still unused to. She wasn't someone who was so easily comfortable with such physical closeness.

She was already in her nightdress, a thankfully more modest one that Gumi had found just the other day, and as the prince took her hand, pulling her to bed with him, she had to marvel at this farce of married life the two of them were participating in. She slid under the blankets just as the prince blew out the candle, and the room was plunged into an all-too familiar darkness. A few moments later, she felt the mattress sink slightly as the weight of the prince settled under the blankets, and he lazily reached out a hand, draping it over her waist. She swallowed, still turned away from him, but he did not ask her to face him – he must have been too tired tonight to play any mind games with her. It seemed to take mere moments before his breathing evened out and the prince fell into the deep embrace of dreams.

Miku thought that this whole routine was very dangerous. She was becoming far too used to the prince sleeping next to her, and although she wasn't particularly fond of it, nor did she enjoy it very much, nowadays she all but expected the prince to hold her every night. But she couldn't get used to it. She had to remind herself of her true goals – that she wanted to flee from the palace and seek her fortune, travel the world and meet new people. The last thing she wanted was to become too comfortable in what was essentially a glided prison. Being the princess would do nothing but drag her down with royal duties and restrictions.

She wanted a taste of freedom in a fresh and exciting world, and she had already spent far too long delaying her escape. She had to stop exploring her options and getting distracted by other things which, while interesting, were not as important as her plans. Tomorrow she would decide on which path to take – should she continue searching for the rumoured secret exit in the old wings, flee through the restricted royal forest, or make up some excuse that would allow her to waltz freely through the palace gates? Right now, she would prefer to stumble across the so-called secret passageway, but if that was impossible – and it seemed more and more likely that she would not be able to find it – then she would give the forest a try. It seemed like it would be a more successful plan than leaving through the main gates, anyway. The guards wouldn't let her out if she was not accompanied by Romeo.

She exhaled, nervous but at the same time, rather excited. Tomorrow would be a new day and a new start for her. No more half-hearted attempts at finding answers or clues to questions that she didn't need answered. The Order of Bethlehem, the Kagamine family, the religious cults…fascinating indeed, but they were not her business, and she would have to keep reminding herself of that while she planned her escape. Though she might still ask her fiancé about his real identity, since she was curious, and she thought that as his fiancée, she had a right to be curious. Maybe the king would be willing to give her a clue regarding his name.

Suddenly, the prince's arms slid around her waist and pulled her closer to him, and she let out a quiet yelp of surprise, her face heating up as she felt his warm body behind hers. His breathing was soft, slow and even, so she knew that he was still asleep and not doing this as some kind of twisted joke, but that didn't make it any less awkward. Though she supposed it was better for her that he was asleep. He really was a hugger – she had realised that after all these nights spent sharing a bed with the prince, and she had more or less resigned herself to the fact that at some point in the middle of the night, she'd wake up with his arms wrapped around her, like she was some kind of giant teddy bear.

Would she ever get used to it? Most probably not, and hopefully she wouldn't stay around long enough for her to actually get used to it either. It was already bad enough that she could recall his sleeping habits, and she knew that he often got nightmares. And she pretended she didn't notice it whenever he called out his previous fiancée's name while in the throes of some horrible dream. Whenever he whispered Rin's name, his arms would tighten around her waist, and Miku wondered if he imagined he was hugging Rin instead of her. Though of course, she hardly wanted to be a substitute, it made her pity him somewhat.

He really couldn't let go of Rin, could he? She was almost tired of always hearing another girl's name on her fiancé's lips, but she reminded herself that it wasn't important anyway, whose name he was calling out. Miku was certain that she and Romeo didn't have any real love or affection for each other, so it didn't matter whether the prince liked her or just saw her as a replacement for his dead beloved. Sometimes though, she wondered what would happen to Romeo when she was gone. Would the prince search for her? Or would he just get another girl to be his wife? If it was the latter, then…would the prince still hold that girl in the middle of the night and whisper Rin's name in his sleep? If so, she pitied the maiden who would come after her.

"Cinderella…" she froze as she heard the prince murmur, and she had to turn around to check that he hadn't suddenly woken up. Because if her ears had not been playing tricks on her, he just said her name in his sleep, or at least what he thought was her name. He still looked like he was asleep, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest showed no indication of otherwise. She didn't know how to react – just moments ago she had been thinking to herself about how the prince only ever dreamt of his dead fiancée. But if she really wasn't mistaken, he just spoke her name…

Miku stayed awake for a long, long time. Besides that one instance, the prince did not say anything else. The night sky with its map of stars shone coldly through the window, and Miku tried to breathe as deeply and slowly as she could, attempting to relax enough to fall asleep. She had no idea when she finally managed to doze off, but she knew that throughout the whole time she stayed awake, the prince's arms never once left her waist.


	24. Chapter 24

Miku glanced around nervously, praying that none of the guards would return to the palace barracks anytime soon. She rifled through the things on the desk, hoping to see a schedule of some sort – surely there had to be a duty roster lying around somewhere, right?

She knew that there were guards situated throughout the forest, and she also knew that in the dead of the night, it was likely that they would mistake her for an intruder and chase after her. And, even if they recognised her to be the prince's fiancée, they wouldn't allow her to just waltz through the forest and leave the palace. So she had to get at least an idea of what the guards' schedules were like and slip away when there were fewer people.

Hopefully, there wouldn't be anyone guarding the forest when it was night-time, but she didn't think she would be that fortunate. She was amazed that she managed to wander all the way to the soldier barracks on her own, given that this quarter had not been shown to her during her tour of the palace. It was situated a little distance away from the palace compound itself, halfway down the sloping hill. The prince was rather busy today, or at least busy enough to pay less attention to her than usual, so she managed to slip away while he wasn't looking and now, here she was. Of course, she did ask Gumo for general directions to the barracks, but she rejected his offer to accompany her and snuck inside here all through her own ability.

The barracks were empty at the moment. It seemed that all the guards were out performing their duties, watching over the king's home and stopping trespassers from getting into the palace grounds. There were not very many guards, at least judging from the few beds she could see in the barracks, but then again she hadn't seen the rest of the compound yet and maybe there were other rooms elsewhere. She shook her head, stepping back from the cluttered desk. There was no duty roster here. Maybe she'd have better luck elsewhere.

She turned around, preparing to take her leave when she heard the tell-tale rattle of the doorknob turning. Miku froze, her heart in her throat, and as the door began to open, she quickly turned to another door and ducked inside the room, hoping that she wouldn't be caught by whoever was coming in. When she closed the door and felt the scratchy material of what seemed to be a shirt behind her, she realised that she had taken refuge in a wardrobe of some kind.

Retreating into the clothes – she assumed that most of these clothes were spare sets of uniforms – she peeked through the keyhole, wondering what was going on and whether she would be able to slip out of here undetected. She was confident that she wouldn't get into any trouble since she was the prince's fiancée, but being caught would still be extremely suspicious and she didn't want to field any annoying questions from the prince. She saw one of the guards stepping towards a bed, yawning as he flopped down onto the mattress, not even bothering to remove his uniform or his boots. She held her breath, thankful that he did not open the wardrobe, and wondered how long it would take before she could get out of this stuffy place.

She dared not open the wardrobe door until she was absolutely certain that the guard was asleep, but how long would that take? She watched, huddled among the clothes, and watched as the guard's chest gently rose and fell, each breath becoming deeper and slower the longer she waited. A few more minutes passed and eventually, Miku felt confident enough about the guard's state of unconsciousness to risk opening the wardrobe door.

To her relief, the guard didn't stir, and she cautiously closed the door behind her, moving as quietly as possible across the room. Eyeing the slumbering man, her gaze settled on his face and she frowned, trying to figure out if he was one of the palace guards or if he normally stayed in the forest – though she couldn't really remember since she didn't pay that much attention to the guards. They were all kind of faceless after a while, and she didn't even run into them that often anyway, since they were usually situated outside the palace, on the grounds rather than within the building itself. Then she spotted some parchment in his hand.

Her eyes widened. Maybe this was something important? She inched slightly closer, trying to decipher what was on the parchment, but the sleeping guard had it clenched tightly in his fist, and she couldn't read a single word. She did notice, however, that it appeared to be a chart of some kind, and she couldn't help but wonder if this was the duty roster. Maybe all the guards had personal mini rosters, which might be why she couldn't find anything on the desk in the room. She hesitated. Should she risk trying to take the parchment out from the man's grasp? She couldn't be sure if he was a light or heavy sleeper. The guard was beginning to snore rather loudly, but she was still too nervous to make a move. Should she risk it?

"Your Highness?" as she stood there, pondering over whether or not she should snatch the piece of paper, she heard someone address her, their tone plainly confused. She whipped around, heart in her throat, and saw one of the captains staring inquisitively at her, clearly wondering what she was doing in the barracks. She gulped. She might not know each and every individual guardsman, but she did know who the captains were. How was she going to get herself out of this situation? The man blinked at her, clearly waiting for her to say something.

"I'm…I'm on a tour. I wanted to see what the palace had to offer," she finally straightened herself, hoping her voice wouldn't tremble and give her away. The captain blinked again, clearly still confused, but he was wise enough not to question her further. Nodding, he stood aside and allowed her to pass, and Miku quickly got out of there, thankful that the man didn't seem too suspicious of her. Well, not that he would have thought her suspicious in the first place. She was the prince's betrothed after all, and the future princess of Ossyria. Exhaling, she decided to just leave the barracks – this was enough excitement for one day.

"Do you require an escort back to the palace, Your Highness?" she heard the captain ask from behind her. He had followed her out of the barracks, it seemed. Miku glanced around at the man, who bowed his head slightly when her gaze met his. She spent a few moments thinking over the offer and finally, she inclined her head – perhaps she could ask a few more questions on the walk back to the palace. The captain followed closely behind her as they made their way out of the compound, and Miku squinted into the distance, the sunlight glaring right into her eyes. The palace outline was blurry against the horizon.

"Tell me," she addressed the captain, who hastened to catch up to her at the sound of her voice, "are the woods guarded at night? It seems very tiring, to have to watch over every inch of the palace grounds even when everyone else is asleep," she watched him carefully as she awaited his response. The captain straightened, looking rather proud as he replied.

"Yes, we do. We watch over the entire palace so that the king and his family may rest well, without fear of any invasion or intruders," he promised. Miku nodded, pretending to be impressed while she thought over how to voice her next question. She didn't want to seem too interested in the guards' routines lest she made herself seem suspicious or, even worse, the captain thought she was actually interested in the palace security and began chattering about what kind of drills the guards did every day. She would have to come across as just barely interested. "Of course, the king treats us all very well, so it's not any trouble for us to ensure that his family is safe," the captain was still talking. "It's the least anyone could do."

"Yes, I agree with that," Miku responded, smiling at the captain. The man quietened. "But surely it must still be tiring, especially since the woodlands outside the palace cover such a large area. How do the guards find the energy to look after the wilderness every hour of the day? There must be some kind of secret to it, no?" her smile brightened. One could almost see the captain puffing out his chest – she had correctly sussed out that the man was proud of his job, and clearly, feeding his ego was the right way to get her questions answered.

"We take turns, of course," he replied. "Usually the younger, more inexperienced guards watch over the forest in the day, while the older guards take over at night. The woodlands teem with game, and many poachers try to steal what rightfully belongs to the king. It is our duty to ensure that the king's woods remain untouched," he spoke these words with such a strong ring of conviction that Miku could not help but feel slightly moved. What was it like, to be able to devote oneself to a cause so passionately? Even though she definitely did not fancy having this man's job, he was so dedicated to his duties that she had to respect him.

"Your dedication is admirable," she complimented him. The man bowed in thanks, a pleased grin on his face. She did not ask any other questions, instead choosing to spend the rest of the time thinking about what she was just told. So the woods were guarded at night as well, then…it was just like she had feared. But she would still have to find a way through regardless – it wasn't like she had any other viable options. Maybe she could accompany the prince on one of his hunting trips if he happened to go on any others in the future – though the mere thought of that made her sick.

She really did not understand why people chose to hunt for sport, as though animals did not feel any emotions or pain – as though they were only placed on this Earth for humans to chase, not for survival but for mere entertainment. But it was a sport often played among those of the aristocratic class, and no one would ever challenge this social custom. At least the previous time she followed the prince, he had not shot anything in front of her.

"Cinderella!" both she and the captain froze in their tracks as a very familiar voice called out her name. She turned in the direction of the voice, almost afraid to look, and saw the prince standing there with one hand placed on his hip, the other gripping the handle of his sword. He looked dressed to go out, wearing a navy embroidered coat with a white blouse and tapered dark brown trousers. "I was not informed – why are you out of the palace?" he demanded, heading down the slope towards them. They were not far from the palace grounds, but Miku could practically feel the captain shrinking away at the prince's approach.

His blue eyes were steely, the cerulean blue looking anything but playful for once. She was reminded of the calm before the storm, but she told herself that she had done nothing wrong by stepping out of the palace's confines. "I wished to wander. Is there some unspoken rule against that now?" she returned politely, meeting his gaze steadfastly. The prince's eyes narrowed, but he didn't deign to respond, instead turning towards the captain. The poor man stood at attention, clearly hoping that he would not get into any trouble. The prince studied him for a moment, and the silence between them seemed to stretch into eternity.

"Escort her back," the prince finally ordered. "And tell the guards not to let my fiancée wander around so freely. There is nothing wrong with leaving the palace grounds, but you should know that you are not meant to walk around unaccompanied, and most definitely not without notifying me prior to that," his grip on his sword's hilt tightened, and her gaze flitted to the sharp blade, mildly curious. She was unsure why he seemed so nervous today. Perhaps he was going to visit some other aristocrat, but he had not mentioned this before to her.

"As you wish, Your Highness," the captain nodded frantically. The prince cast them one last sweeping look before turning away – she glanced towards where he was headed and saw Gumo standing there with a carriage at the ready, two horses patiently waiting to set forth. The prince reached the butler's side, and the two men exchanged a few brief words before Romeo went up onto the carriage. Gumo turned to the coachman and said something, and the man nodded before jerking the horses into motion, the carriage rolling down the slope.

Gumo watched the carriage for a moment, before turning around and catching her eye. She froze – even from this distance, there was a distinctly knowing expression on the butler's face, and she had to admit that she wasn't surprised when the butler started walking over to them. The captain shifted from foot to foot, clearly uncertain about what to do now, and when Gumo finally reached their side, he dismissed the captain with a nod and a wave. The captain bolted at once, clearly relieved to be away from the princess and whatever trouble she had gotten into.

"Well, Your Highness," the butler sounded remarkably jovial, "Prince Romeo has ordered me to entertain you today, so here I am, your personal court jester. Please treat me kindly – my repertoire is limited to juggling and jokes of poor taste, but I will try my best to keep a smile on your face," he grinned. Miku felt her lips twitch slightly at that. She was certain that Romeo had only said this so that she wouldn't wander off again, but she was glad for the butler's company nevertheless. Gumo was certainly easier to talk to than his master.

"I am not very particular when it comes to entertainment," she played along, allowing him to gently take her elbow and guide her back up the path to her current home. "But I am rather interested – what is the prince doing today? He did not tell me anything about his plans last night, which I find rather odd since he usually attempts to drag me along with him whenever he goes visiting," she remarked. A brief frown flitted over Gumo's face, but it cleared up so quickly that she was unsure if she imagined it or not. He smiled at her.

"Nowhere which would interest you, Your Highness. He went to see someone he would much rather you not visit, that is all," he coughed. "Today, he spends time with the Earl of Ereve," he clarified when she stared quizzically at him. Miku grimaced at the mention of the aristocrat – then indeed, this was a visit she would much rather pass on. She could still recall that lingering stare, the hunger on his face…the only son of the Sakine Dukedom, Sakine Meito, whose dark brown eyes always seemed filled with malicious amusement. What sort of business did the prince have with someone like him? Perhaps it was related to whatever matters they discussed, the last time the Earl came to visit. Well, whatever it was, she was not interested.

"And do you not have anything to do until the prince's return?" she questioned, slipping past the gates into the palace's large courtyard. Gumo smiled serenely and shook his head, and she sighed, knowing that this was true. He did seem to have a remarkable amount of leisure time for someone who was a personal servant to the prince. "Did he instruct you to keep an eye on me so that I wouldn't do anything which displeases him?" she raised an eyebrow. Again, the butler simply smiled, and she chose to take that as an answer to her question.

"I assumed you would be interested in finding out more about your…special interests, Your Highness," he instead changed the topic, speaking tactfully, ushering her through the doors of the palace. She wanted to protest, but the large doors were quickly shut behind her and she felt horribly trapped – though it was of course far better than being stuck in the Hatsune manor with her stepfamily. Not that it really helped, seeing the same burgundy wallpaper everywhere no matter where she went. If she was kept inside any longer, she'd go mad.

Miku was going out of her mind with boredom. She could not leave the palace without a chaperone, and the prince himself hardly ever seemed to leave his study. He was burying himself in work nowadays, and while Gumo did offer to accompany her on occasion, he was reluctant to bring her any further than the noble townhouses, which frustrated her to no end. Gumo's logic was that the prince's fiancée had no reason to visit the markets and see the houses of the common people, but that was precisely what she wished to see, for she had been surrounded by the dwellings of the wealthy her entire life and she yearned to glimpse something different. Not that the butler listened to her, anyway. He only ever listened to his master.

She couldn't help but suspect that the prince was becoming more and more secretive, ever since she found that manuscript about the Kagamine family. After her discovery, he never told her to look through any other old papers, as though he was afraid of what else she might come across. And while that did make her suspicious, she tried not to care too much about it since it didn't involve her directly…at least, she didn't think it did. Which was why she was now devoting her time to plotting her escape, since it brought some welcome respite from the constant boredom and the nagging doubts in her mind, but since the prince caught her slipping out of the palace, her ability to leave the palace might be restricted even further now…

What was he up to? "No, I've found out what I needed to know," she answered the butler absentmindedly as he followed her to her favourite balcony. It was near the large window on the second floor of the palace, the one the prince showed to her on the second night of the ball. Apparently, the door next to that window led out to a small balcony, complete with a chaise longue and a marble table where one could lay out platters of sweets and pastries. One of the servants had shown her the balcony after she was found staring out of the large window for the umpteenth time, and nowadays, whenever Miku wanted some time to think by herself, she would sit there. After all, the prince was showing her remarkably little attention.

It was rather odd, not being pestered by the blond prince all the time. After all, he used to be there all the time, practically breathing down her neck. But he seemed extremely busy, and she thought maybe that was something to do with some taxes or whatnot – she had listened to enough of his discussions with various noblemen to understand that there was a problem with some tax accounts and the fishing industry in Ossyria right now. Apparently, the prince had to settle most of these problems on behalf of the king, who was actually hardly ever in Ossyria. Miku could count the number of times she had seen the king around the palace on one hand. He usually came back for a day or two, then he was off again.

"That's very good, Your Highness," Gumo answered her, a small smile still on his face. He seemed to already know where she was headed without her having to say anything, but that was not surprising since almost all the palace servants knew about her new favourite haunt. "I suppose this is as good a time as any other – the prince also told me to return this to you," Miku blinked at those words, turning around to stare at the butler. Gumo reached into his waistcoat and drew out a small, familiar velvet box. Her eyes narrowed at it.

The butler opened the box for her, and she saw the same ostentatious engagement ring the prince had offered to her, a few weeks ago. Funny how it had only been a few weeks since the ball – it felt like another lifetime ago, but really, it had only been three weeks or so. "Ah, so it was with him all along…" she murmured, reaching out to the ring. The cold metal felt foreign against her skin, and she held it carefully in her cupped palms, reluctant to put it on her finger. It felt like a collar, chaining her to this palace and to the prince. Gumo closed the box and placed it back inside the pocket of his waistcoat. "Why didn't he give it to me then, when he demanded that I wear the ring? That time, when the Earl of Ereve came to visit."

Gumo blinked. "Ah, it was a test, you see," the butler explained, and there was something about the way he spoke that made it feel like he was confessing a secret to her. "He was wondering if you would remember that you did not keep the ring, and what you would say once you realised. It surprised him that you did not bring it up even after the Earl's visit, especially since this ring would be worth quite a bit of money," Gumo's expression was just as knowing now as it was earlier when he saw her outside with the captain. Miku felt her stomach sink – did the butler somehow suspect that she was plotting to run away?

"I would not sell it away even if it was worth a vast fortune," she lied, her fingers clenching tightly over the ring. The butler studied her, face becoming carefully blank, and she held her breath, hoping that he would not press any further. She did not know how he had guessed or how much he actually knew about her plans, but she would be careful in the future not to let anything slip. Were her wanderings that obvious? Was her unhappiness that easy to see?

"If you say so, Your Highness," he inclined his head subserviently. "The prince did have his suspicions, but he trusts you – besides, he was also keen to see what the Earl would say if his fiancée was not wearing a ring. The Earl of Ereve always did have a rather notorious reputation for being a…well, a _connoisseur_ of women is how he would describe himself. The prince wished to test his loyalty, and it was a test the Earl most definitely did not pass," the butler mused. "Though it was also strange to see how strongly the prince reacted to the results he himself anticipated. One would think that he would be in better control of his jealousy."

"Jealousy?" Miku echoed, unable to believe her own ears. The prince, getting jealous over the way another man spoke to her? She already knew that Sakine Meito was rather…well, she would certainly do her best to avoid him, but she didn't know that the prince's rather aggressive behaviour after that was a result of jealousy. She thought he had been simply trying to assert his dominance over the lesser nobleman. Gumo nodded sagely, and she slowly shook her head, laughing a little at the mere suggestion. "Impossible. He has no true feelings for me – let us not lie to each other, Gumo. He has an ulterior motive for proposing to me, and if you think I am naïve enough not to realise that, then you do not know me."

"I have no illusions regarding your perception on things, and I know what things may look like from your point of view, Your Highness," the butler answered. "But I tell the truth when I say that the prince does care for you. And he is human as well, with human thoughts and feelings, even if some find that difficult to believe…which man would not be even remotely jealous when another man tries to seduce their fiancée? You give him too much credit if you think he would be entirely unaffected," Gumo's green eyes glimmered with good humour.

She did not know how to respond. "It's not something I have to care about now, is it?" she finally retorted, her words almost snappish. The engagement ring was still grasped firmly in her hand, the metal growing colder and colder the longer she held it. "And were you not ordered by the prince to keep me entertained? All this is not humorous in the slightest. Since you are to keep me company, then let us not speak of such dreary things," she ended the conversation right there, not wishing to hear anything more about the prince or his possible feelings regarding their bizarre relationship. Gumo, to her surprise, did not protest.

* * *

"And here we have the son of the Kagamine Dukedom – disowned in name, but heir by blood," Meito sang liltingly as they travelled down the winding staircase, Len holding the torch so that both of them could see in the darkness. It took everything he had not to turn around and throw the flaming torch at the Earl, but Len gritted his teeth, ignoring Meito.

"It wasn't this cold the last time I came down here," he commented, distracting the Earl from his extremely _irritating_ monologue. The Earl made a small noise of agreement but surprisingly did not say anything besides that. Len knew that Meito was, despite all his bravado and his inappropriate jokes, afraid of what lay down here, at the deepest, darkest floors of his family home. But of course, he would be afraid. His family had withdrawn from the Order of Bethlehem centuries ago, and Meito knew nothing about what lay ahead.

Len knew. He had always known – from birth till now, it had been his responsibility to take over his birth father's role, and ensure the four gates remained intact. His father would not carry out this tedious task himself – the man may have thrown aside his son, but he certainly did not wish to take back the responsibilities that came with disowning his heir. He snorted softly at the thought – if it wasn't for his unspoken duties, Len would not have considered himself a Kagamine at all. But it was in his blood, to be the keeper of the gates. He had to do this even if he didn't want to – his birthright offered him no other choice.

"Open the door," he instructed. Meito nodded, shockingly quiet for once, and fumbled with the key for a moment – the heavy wooden door groaned as it moved, the hinges sounding like they had not been oiled in a good, long while. And why would they be? No one had come down here in ten years. The last time Len came, he was eight years old, but he still remembered the visit with startling clarity. It was the first time he had come across a gate. The Sakine gate was the one used to initiate him since it was the only one of the four which remained unused, and therefore was theoretically the safest to visit. But being unused and thus ' _safe_ ' didn't make the gate any less intimidating. He could smell the dusty air beyond.

Len carefully handed the torch to the Earl, who lingered some distance behind Len, clearly reluctant to walk inside the dark chamber. Len took his first step into the dim room, and he turned to face the Earl, silently goading him into entering as well. Meito let out a deep sigh before he went in, and the two boys slipped through the darkness, the torchlight barely able to illuminate their surroundings. Vast swathes of spider webs stretched from wall to wall, and wherever the firelight shone, mysterious critters moved, disturbed by the illumination.

"You lot doesn't watch over the gate very well," Len commented, his voice slightly muffled. The darkness here was so absolute that it almost felt like they were wading into nothingness – when he held out a hand, he could barely make out the shape of his fingers even with the faint light the torch provided. It was like walking into both emptiness and eternity, all at the same time. It was the sort of darkness that was more than just an unlit room, more than just the cover of night – it was the sort of darkness that could only be born from something that was both natural and unnatural, neither quite animal nor man. "Might weaken the gate, you know. Don't want whatever is lurking beyond to become angry now, do we?" he taunted.

It was good to be able to reverse their roles for once and force the Earl to suffer while he stood there, relishing his newfound advantage. Meito said nothing as they continued to walk through the room, even their footsteps muffled by the thick layer of dust which coated the ground. "You know, that time you came to visit us at the palace," Len continued, "you really ought to provide more warning in the future. I may not have been around to receive you. Or were you simply taking a risk, gambling with an issue that is so important?"

"Oh, do be less uptight, Your Highness," Meito responded, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Half the ladies in the kingdom would weep if you left Ossyria for more than two days. It was obvious that you would be in the palace. And news of your fiancée truly does travel quickly. I knew you were not going to travel overseas, at least not so soon after your very surprising engagement. Nor do I regret visiting either – your princess, she is a very lovely girl."

Len felt rather uneasy at that. It was good that his fiancée was being complimented – she truly was beautiful, and of course, it did him no harm to have a beautiful wife-to-be. But the fact that it was Meito doing the complimenting just made him feel…well, less than happy. He could not fully explain why either, besides the fact that Meito was a notorious womaniser and he would really rather not have him noticing Cinderella. If the Earl ever dared to try anything with his fiancée, Len would make him pay dearly. It was one thing to disrespect the prince – it was another thing to disrespect the prince's betrothed. He cared about her, even if he didn't say anything aloud.

"I appreciate your praise, but she needs little more of such," he replied stiffly. "Her ego has already been stoked enough at the ball, so I would like it very much if you were to stop commenting on her beauty. She is more than just a pretty face, you know," he added, and he realised belatedly that he meant what he said. Meito snorted, but Len ignored his rude response, his searching fingers having found the rusty edge of the next door. He knew that the gate was waiting for him, and he took in a deep breath, his eyelids fluttering shut. After this he had to check the gate, make sure everything was fine, and he'd be on his way. Yes, this was what he was really here for, and Meito's comments on his fiancée were all just secondary.

"Open the door," he whispered again, and Meito obliged – after yet more fumbling with the keys, the door swung open with a groan even louder than the previous time, and the two of them stepped into the tiny chamber beyond, where Len could practically feel the eeriness of their surroundings. There was something _peculiar_ about this place, an atmosphere that would never be found anywhere above the ground. The mysterious aura of the old, locked gate beckoned to him, and he allowed himself to fall into it, fully embracing the unknown. He had a job to do here, a duty that was beyond that of a prince's, even beyond that of the Kagamine family's heir. It was a duty that had been sealed into his very blood, and even if the rest of his identity, what made him _Kagamine_ _Len_ , was thrown into oblivion, this job he had would linger with him for the rest of eternity. This was the true legacy of the Kagamine family.

* * *

"Do you like that ring?" the prince asked, watching her as she brushed her long hair, sitting in front of the mirror. She paused at the question, and she met his gaze in the reflection of the mirror, his blue eyes staring curiously at her. Her hand lingered on her teal locks, pale against her hair, and she eyed the engagement ring she had left carelessly on his desk.

"No," she finally answered truthfully. "It is too gaudy, too ostentatious. As though it is trying to prove a point to someone, whatever that point may be," she explained, noticing how the prince raised an eyebrow in response. She thought he might be offended by what she said, though she had said nothing except what she genuinely felt, but instead, the prince just smiled, as if her answer pleased him greatly. "You seem amused," she commented.

"I like that you speak your mind about things like these," he answered. "You are an enigma to me. When it comes to certain things, you keep close to yourself, but on other matters, you are easier to read than an open book," he rose from the bed, stepping closer and closer to her until he was behind her chair, leaning down so that his face was right next to hers. "I wonder if one day I might be able to peek inside that pretty little head of yours and find out all the secrets that you seem so desperate to hide from me," he murmured, voice incredibly sensuous.

She shivered, almost gasping in surprise, but she managed to catch herself before the sound could pass her lips. "You may amuse yourself trying, then," she continued to brush her hair, painfully aware of his presence behind her. "You speak as though you do not have your own secrets, Prince Romeo," she added, granting him a small smile of her own. He chuckled softly in response.

"I dare say that I have fewer secrets than you do, Cinderella," her nickname sounded like a silken caress when he said it. She could almost feel the word against her neck, a barely-there, slender finger gently trailing down her skin. "In fact, if you wish I could tell you exactly what I did today, which I think would be far more than you are willing to divulge to me. I do not think that you simply chanced across one of the captains while taking a casual stroll around the palace, but I also know better than to ask you why you were with him since you would simply refuse to answer me," he continued wryly. She just went on brushing her long hair.

"Well, if that is the case, then what did you do today?" she changed the topic, pouncing on the chance to divert his attention away from her affairs. He paused, as though surprised that she really would show any interest in his day, and thankfully he withdrew slightly from her – thankfully because when he was so close to her she could smell the cologne he used and, to tell the truth, it was beginning to make her feel a little heady. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled the brush through her already straightened locks, but she did not want to put the brush down and face her fiancé. She had little idea what she would say if she had to look at him.

"I visited the Earl of Ereve today. We went through a few important things, and I made my way back here once those things were settled. It was rather uneventful," his answer was smooth, so smooth that she couldn't help but feel like he was lying to her. Not that it ought to matter anyway – what business was it of hers, even if he really lied? As long as whatever he was doing did not interfere with her escape plans, he could do whatever he wanted. "But unless you wish to hear more about my dull day, I'd urge you to come to bed with me. It's been a long day, and I must admit that I'm rather tired, especially since I did not have a chance to take my usual afternoon nap…"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and reluctantly she put her brush down, following the prince to bed. It was a familiar routine by now, and she watched as he blew out the candle, waiting for him to climb into bed with her. His familiar weight made the mattress sink slightly, and as his arms draped across her waist as always, she told herself that she must not get used to this – not to the careful, tense exchanges they always shared right before bedtime, and definitely not to the feeling of his warm body beside hers, his breath brushing lightly against her bare neck. Shivering, she shut her eyes, forcing herself to think of anything but the prince. She barely knew him, and he barely knew her. And while she would not deny that she may be rather attracted to the prince – she couldn't help herself, not when she found him handsome and he kept holding her so intimately every night – she would not let this sort of stupid physical attraction get in the way of her desires. Not even if he whispered her name in his sleep at night – which only happened once anyway, and most certainly was not a sign of anything.

"You think too loudly," the prince whispered, and she flinched, startled by his unexpected voice. He laughed quietly, amused by her reaction, and she burrowed into the pillows, trying to ignore the way his arms tightened around her, pulling her ever so slightly closer to him. He was only this way around her at night – she wouldn't call his behaviour either loving or tender, but it certainly wasn't the same borderline antagonism he usually displayed towards her during the day. "I apologise for not being able to spend as much time as I would like with you," he suddenly added out of the blue, surprising her once again. "You are my fiancée after all, and Gumo tells me that you are beginning to grow restless, all by yourself…I will make time for you after tonight, I promise you that," she suddenly felt his warm lips on the back of her neck.

She drew in a deep breath, her skin tingling. The way she was responding to him was simply ridiculous. Surely she had better self-control than this – whatever game he was playing with her now, she would not lose. Forcefully turning around to face him, she reached up to his cheek, her fingers brushing against his skin, and she felt him stiffen at her touch. "Only if you really wish to do so," she told him, her voice softer than she herself was used to. It must be due to the late hour. "Because I'm afraid it might bore you to spend so much time with your fiancée. I do little around the palace."

"Sometimes it is nice to do nothing," he answered, and to her satisfaction, she felt him edge slightly away from her hand. "After all these tedious matters which I've had to settle recently, such a respite sounds most enjoyable. And perhaps, if we spend enough time together, you might decide to tell me what you're up to, what with all the explorations you seem so partial to starting," he added, and the barely-concealed warning did not go unnoticed by her.

"Perhaps," she smiled, and the two of them fell silent, Miku satisfied by how she was able to make the prince back off, and Len wondering why his heart was beating so quickly. The only thing his fiancée had done was to touch his cheek, but it was a rare moment of tenderness – it may not have been a genuine moment since he suspected she only did so to shock him, but still, she had touched him. It was a first, and he had to turn away to compose himself. This was not what he had intended when he snuck up behind her tonight. She was clearly figuring out how to throw him off, and he didn't know how he felt about that. She was playing this game using the rules _he_ had laid out beforehand, and he hated the very thought of being played by her.

Still, her skin was soft and delicate, and he thought that her hand could mould to his cheek. It was just an observation though, and he didn't really want her to touch him again or anything – at least he didn't think so. It wasn't like he was in love with her. This was all just a stupid game, a competition to see who would break first between the two of them, and he wouldn't allow himself to lose to her.


	25. Chapter 25

She wanted to hiss in frustration. The locked gate was so tantalisingly close, but she couldn't go there now. She stared longingly across the track, wondering if there would come a time she could slip away, underneath the moonlight, finding her freedom through the trees…

"What are you looking at?" the prince's voice cut through her thoughts. She glanced at him, reluctantly tearing her gaze away from the royal forest beyond. Romeo was sitting next to her, a teacup held elegantly in his hand, legs crossed, gaze fixed intently upon her. He was the very picture of idyllic grace and charm, right down to the slightly raised eyebrow and the gentle curve of his lips. "You've been distracted the entire time. I must be getting better at reading your expressions," he mused, sipping from his teacup. She chose not to respond.

He had kept to the promise he made that night. Prince Romeo was spending unnatural amounts of time with her nowadays, which greatly hindered her ability to explore and make plans for escape. She hadn't been able to visit the old wing, nor did she dare to approach the gates in broad daylight. At night, she knew that the prince only fell asleep after she did – she knew, because she could hear his breathing and sense the tension in his shoulders, and it was obvious that he was waiting for something. Probably waiting for her to get up and slip away from the room. Did he suspect that she was up to something? That was the only explanation she could think of. She shouldn't have gotten caught walking with the captain the other time…

Of course, everything had been going too smoothly. She didn't know what to do now – just wait and bide her time, or try to set her plan in motion despite not knowing enough about her circumstances. That trip to the barracks had been helpful in providing her with some information, but she didn't know how to make use of everything that she learnt. The more experienced guards were the ones who watched the forest at night, which wouldn't help her case in the slightest. And she still had no idea roughly how many guards there would be situated throughout the forest. It must surely be possible to avoid them, but would she be that fortunate?

And she still needed money. The only way she could raise the funds necessary for her to travel was if she pawned off her engagement ring, but she also knew that meant she'd have to go into town, to the marketplace. It was too far away for her to go there on foot – assuming that she left in the dead of night, she'd only have a few more hours until daybreak, before the prince woke up and realised that she was missing. In those precious few hours, she'd have to get as far away as possible, meaning she would have to leave on a horse if she wanted to escape successfully. But she hated horses. There was no way she'd be able to run far enough to avoid getting caught.

The only way she could see this working out was if she managed to get to at least the noble townhouses. She wasn't sure if the forest would have a path leading back down the hill, but she could only hope. Miku had not yet seen enough of the forest to determine if she could escape through there – she had only been there once after all, with the prince – but it was the best option she had at the moment. And she was quite sure that, should she manage to make it all the way to the noble townhouses, she could seek refuge in Lord Shion's manor. If he still had feelings for her, then she didn't think it'd be too difficult to spin some sob story about how she had to escape from the prince, who was nothing like she thought him to be…

Yes, that sounded like a plan. Now she just had to put that plan into action. "Cinderella?" the prince's voice prompted her again. She blinked, shaking her head slightly – she had been so lost in her thoughts that she forgot she was sitting with him. The prince was staring at her now, something almost like concern in his blue eyes. "You didn't respond when I called you just now. Clearly, you're thinking of something important. What could it possibly be?"

"No, it's nothing of importance," she lied. "I was just thinking about my parents. Especially my mother," she paused. The weather today was nice and pleasantly warm. Though she and Prince Romeo were seated underneath the shade, she could still sense the warmth of the sun against her fair skin. It was very strange, but still nice, to feel the sunlight. Back when she was locked up in the mansion, feeling the sunlight directly on her skin was a privilege that her stepsisters often withheld from her. "She would have liked to be here now. My parents used to enjoy going on picnics when I was a child," she added, her voice sounding wistful.

Len nodded, pretending to take another sip from his cup, but in reality, he was trying his best not to keep staring at his fiancée. She was hardly paying him any attention, her mind clearly taken up by other thoughts, and that left his own mind free to wander. It was ridiculous for him to be so obsessed, but he couldn't help thinking about how beautiful his fiancée was. Cinderella was lovely when she wasn't a blazing spitfire, and her loveliness was becoming almost dangerous for his mental state. He detested his own weak will for being so easily swayed by mere appearances, but it had been a while since he last spent any length of time with someone of the opposite sex, and his male instincts were clearly responding.

Was it his fault that she looked particularly stunning when she chose to tie her hair up in a mere bun? Was it his fault that she was shockingly beautiful when wearing nothing but a plain, simple white dress? It was really nothing but a plain white dress, high-necked and long-sleeved, the most decent, modest dress he had ever seen. But she glowed in it – the pure whiteness of the dress contrasted against her bright green eyes and her silky teal hair. He could see every single feature of her face, the long eyelashes which lowered ever so sensuously whenever she closed her eyes, the loose tendrils of hair which framed her slim face, beckoning to him.

He could close his eyes and pretend she was someone else. He could reach out, persuading himself it was all a dream, a mere illusion, and sweep those tendrils of hair away from her face, away from the large eyes that could burn as hot as flame, or be sweet and limpid like the eyes of a doe…he could tell himself that those eyes were blue and her hair was golden blonde, but when he awakened from his dream it wouldn't be _her_. It would be Cinderella, who was – like he reminded himself time and time again – nothing like Kagamine Rin.

It was the first time in a few years since he thought that name to himself. He usually didn't even think of her name, since the very sound of it brought pain to his heart. For the first few months after his attempted suicide, he tried to pretend that she wasn't dead, because if _she_ didn't exist, he didn't exist either. But he couldn't lie to himself. He wouldn't be trapped in this palace, in this role as Prince of Ossyria, if she hadn't died. If she were still alive, he would be by her side. There was no doubt whatsoever about that. But slowly, he had learnt to live with the pain. And slowly, he was beginning to remember the sound of her name.

"We can go on picnics too, if you want. And you can always invite your parents here to the palace. You're my fiancée – my home is yours," he told her, and he was surprised to find that he was sincere about it. If she wanted to go on a picnic, he'd accompany her. Partially since it was part of his duty as her husband-to-be, and because he needed to fulfil his promise to his adoptive father – but also because he genuinely enjoyed her company. She was a difficult maiden, full of secrets and hidden thoughts, but when she talked to him…

It was becoming a personal challenge, getting her to open up to him. In the beginning, he only cared since he promised his father he would get to the bottom of this, but sometimes at night when he talked to her, when it felt like he managed to find out more about her – either through the things she outright told him, or the things he guessed from their night-time conversations – he couldn't deny a feeling of immense satisfaction. It was certainly very rewarding to find his efforts paying off. He told himself that he enjoyed it because he had promised the king, and not because he personally wanted to find out more about her…

Cinderella shook her head. "My parents won't come," she answered, her voice still wistful. "It is too far away for them to visit often. I came to Ossyria knowing that it was unlikely I'd see my parents again," she sighed, picking up her teacup. She had yet to drink her tea, and the liquid had turned cool quite some time ago. He stopped her, his hand reaching out to prevent her from lifting the cup to her lips. She stared quizzically at him, perhaps the first time during this entire conversation where she actually paid him any attention. Len beckoned to Gumo, who was waiting quietly behind them, and the butler approached, wordlessly lifting Cinderella's teacup and replacing the liquid inside with fresh, aromatic tea from the pot.

"Thank you," Cinderella's voice was quiet. Len couldn't be sure if she was thanking him or Gumo. Possibly both of them? Though he would rather not assume he was being thanked, since Cinderella still seemed rather antagonistic towards him. Today was one of her milder days however, and that was most likely because she was still thinking about whatever was on her mind. Len sometimes wished he was capable of peering into her brain and reading her thoughts. He was certain that whatever she thought about would be fascinating – and even if it wasn't, it would be a welcome respite from the memories his own mind constantly dredged up. It had been three years, but the raw pain of his past never left him alone.

"Then why did you come to Ossyria, if you knew you would be separated from your family?" Len asked, swapping his teacup for some biscuits. He was feeling a little hungry. Cinderella glanced at him again, green eyes considering – her teal hair still framed her face softly, and it made her look so… _gentle_. He was struck by a sudden urge to reach out and brush the back of his hand against her cheek. He still remembered the feeling of her fingers against his skin. She was so soft. It had to be a sin, for someone to be as soft as Cinderella. Or maybe he had gone for so long without a girl's touch that her mere presence was twisting his thoughts.

"It was so I could find a better life," she answered, gaze leaving him again. "I'm uncertain if I have said this before, but…my family in Veracent is not as well-off as the noble families in Ossyria. I had the upbringing of an aristocrat, but we would not be considered wealthy by Ossyrian standards. My parents wished for me to lead a fulfilled life and marry into a good family, which is why I was sent to live with my aunt, the Dowager Duchess Hatsune."

"No, you've not mentioned it before," he didn't know whether to believe her or not. She did admit that she had been brought up like an aristocrat, and her mannerisms supported that. What did not make sense was why her family would not be considered wealthy, if they were indeed noble – Veracent was not much poorer than Ossyria, though they were certainly resource-poor – and the aristocratic families of both nations were definitely almost on par with each other. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened to your family such that you would not be considered as wealthy as the rest? Your situation makes little sense to me."

Cinderella placed her cup down. Her green eyes were still looking away from him. He was tempted to reach out and touch her chin, turn her head around so she would be looking at him. "My family was involved in the textiles business. We imported silks and cloths from exotic locations and sold them for use in carpets and drapes. But then we went through a difficult time and in the end, our textiles business went bankrupt. We never lost our noble titles, but the family wealth suffered. I had to…I came here with the intention of restoring my family's reputation and fortune, or at least finding a way to do so. Which was why I had to marry a wealthy nobleman," she exhaled. "Do you think of me as materialistic now?"

"I wouldn't call you materialistic. Practical is a better choice of word," he clarified, watching her carefully, wondering if she would say anything more that would help him piece together all these different clues about her true identity. She smiled, but remained quiet. There was nothing but silence between them for a while, but it was surprisingly peaceful silence. It was almost nice, to sit there with her and enjoy the quiet and calm, but he couldn't just say nothing. "Do you not feel upset though, that you were essentially sold off by your parents in their bid to restore their coffers?" he tilted his head. The girl didn't respond immediately.

He did, however, observe her grip on the teacup tightening ever so slightly. Clearly, he had touched a nerve. "No, I do not feel upset," her response was careful, almost tense. It seemed like she was doing all she could to not flare up at him. He knew that his words had provoked her – which wasn't surprising, for the statement was rather challenging. "It is my duty to my parents and my noble family to do whatever I must to restore our former glory. If I do not do whatever it takes…my family's name will be dishonoured, besmirched by our creditors and those who cashed in on our misfortune. I will never allow that to happen."

"Such a strong sense of duty you have," he observed, a corner of his mouth tilting upwards. She shot him a steady stare, but said nothing else, perhaps wondering if he meant that as a compliment or a hidden insult. "I wish you would show only half that amount of devotion towards being my fiancée. You still seem displeased about being in the palace, you know. I remember the conversation we had the other night. Is it really just because you want to travel and explore the world?" he probed. That was something which had been nagging at him for a while. He couldn't shake off the feeling that Cinderella had something planned.

"You would not allow it even if I told you the truth," she shot back, her tone defensive. Her green eyes sparked with annoyance, and he could see it despite how much she struggled to keep it hidden. There was the faintest tint of pink to her cheeks, an obvious sign of her growing agitation. She looked irritated, but at the same time, she looked painfully _alive_. Len could only wish that his previous fiancée could look the same way. But wishes and empty hopes would lead him nowhere. On the other hand, Cinderella was seated right opposite him with fire in her eyes and her fair cheeks stained red. _She_ was alive. And she was right here with him.

Cinderella would never replace Rin. Never, not in a thousand years. But she was the girl who was most alive now, the girl with the walls he absolutely had to tear down. And he would do whatever it took to make her open up to him. It was for both his father's sake and his own. If he continued living without finding out the truth about her, he would lose another reason to exist. For there was no denying it – solving the mystery that surrounded Cinderella had become another motivator, just one more excuse for him to struggle onwards in a miserable world without his beloved. "I didn't say you could not. I said we could talk about it another day, when it wasn't the middle of the night and we both wanted to sleep," he retorted.

"Oh, is that the case?" Cinderella's blazing green eyes were narrowed at him. Gumo looked between the two royals, clearly concerned about the situation – he would not interfere with their argument, but he would step in to defuse the tension if things got too heated. One of Gumo's unspoken duties was to ensure that Len never went too far. The prince sometimes did not realise that the words he spoke were hurtful, that in any situation, there was more than just his pride or feelings at stake. "It is not the first time we've mentioned the possibility of me leaving the palace. Always, you were very adamant that I could not travel anywhere."

"It's something we can discuss," he repeated stubbornly, though in his heart he knew she was right. He couldn't let her leave him. He was afraid that once she left, she would never come back. He was afraid that Cinderella would become another Rin – the last time he saw his beloved happy and alive was right before she went on her journey to other lands. The next time he saw her was in a wooden box. He never got to say a proper goodbye to her, and that was one of his biggest regrets. If she had not gone…if he had said no, if he had not given in to her charms and pleas, if he had just listened to his father and told her to stay…

"There is nothing to discuss," she said shortly, closing her eyes and sipping from her tea. The surface of the liquid was still steaming. "It's not something I wish to bring up again with you, Romeo. Quarrelling will get us nowhere, and I do not intend to argue with you. We both have better things to spend our time and energy on," she continued, her firm tone putting an end to the conversation. Or at least, that was what she tried to do. Len was having none of that – partially due to his pride, which demanded that he always have the last word.

"You already know why I don't want you to leave. I've stated the reason before," he stared at her, but she refused to meet his gaze. "I'm truly afraid that if you leave me, you'd never return. Why would you do that to me, given what you know of my past?" his voice softened slightly when he noticed her shoulders stiffening, her green gaze fixed on the forest that lay on the other side of the gate, some distance away. He didn't want to make her feel guilty, but he hoped that his raw emotions would reach her. It was truly all for her own good. Why wasn't that something she seemed capable of understanding? He would never do anything which would harm her. His feelings for her, their engagement, none of it may be genuine, but in truth he still cared. He wouldn't do anything to hurt her. As her fiancé, his duty was to protect her from any possible harm. Did she not trust that he only had her welfare in mind?

"I never said that I disagreed with you," she responded flatly. "I told you that I did not wish to continue this discussion. You're the one who insists on carrying on," she pointed out. He pursed his lips, but dropped the argument – the last thing he wanted was to annoy her even further. Though he couldn't deny that she looked particularly stunning when she was feeling particularly emotional…he wouldn't push her boundaries just for his own benefit, however. Irritating her would get them nowhere. Instead, he opted to take the higher ground and stay quiet, simply observing her. She refused to meet his gaze, and they spent the rest of their time in stubborn silence, neither party acknowledging the presence of the other. He did not say anything aloud after that point, but they both knew he was constantly watching her.

Miku couldn't help but wonder why he wouldn't stop looking at her. Was it because he had his suspicions about her intentions? Was he trying to figure out what her next move would be? But she need not have worried so much about the prince. What she did not know was that the prince had long let go of any rational thought, and he spent the rest of the time simply marvelling at her beauty. He wasn't sure if he had seen any other girl as lovely as Cinderella.

Even though his beloved was pretty as well, for some reason, he couldn't help but be awed by Cinderella. There was a certain allure to her that Rin did not possess. Was it because Rin was young, pure and innocent? But Cinderella was innocent as well…he knew, given the way she reacted when she first wore the skimpy nightdress Gumi chose for her. She was just as pure and innocent as Rin. But Cinderella had fiery green eyes and a stubborn pout – it was a dangerous combination that made her look unconsciously seductive, and he had to admit that part of this seductiveness was due to the simple fact that she didn't realise how much she affected him. And he dreaded the day when she finally realised her influence over him…

"Your Highness," he blinked, startled out of his musing. He saw Gumi standing there beside her brother, a sealed envelope in her hands. "A letter was delivered to the palace today, and it is addressed to you. Do you wish to open it now, or should I leave it in your room?"

He was aware of Cinderella's curious gaze, fixed so intently upon him. "Give it to me. Might as well read it now, since I have little else to do," he reached out a hand, and Gumi passed him a letter opener along with the envelope. He slid the blade through the flap, breaking the wax seal, and unfolded the paper inside. The cursive handwriting was unfamiliar. His eyes scanned through the contents of the letter, a frown unconsciously appearing on his face as he read. Gumi and Gumo retreated respectfully from him, awaiting further orders.

Miku wondered what was written on that letter. Perhaps it was another greeting from the Viscount of Lexane? After a while, the prince folded the paper up and slid it back inside the envelope, returning it to Gumi. "Leave it in my study. I'll write a response later," he told the head servant. Gumi nodded, bowing to him in farewell before she turned and went back to the palace. "Are you curious about the contents, Cinderella?" the prince added, noticing the way she continued to watch as Gumi's figure shrank into the distance. Miku hesitated.

It was nothing which involved her, she was certain. Or did it, actually? "It is not my business to interfere," she knew her words sounded cautious. "If you wanted me to know, or if it was something to do with me, you would have said so of your own accord. At least, I trust that you would," she added, staring down at her tea. Her cup was half-empty. How long had she been sitting out here with the prince? It must have been close to an hour by now. She was not sure, since there was no clock nearby and the sun seemed to have barely moved across the sky. Perhaps it had only been less than half an hour, but to her, it felt like half a day.

"Perhaps I would," he acknowledged, a small smile on his face. It looked almost like a smirk. "It was nothing of extreme importance. If it was I would not still be idling here, making small talk with you," he pointed out, and the smugness in his tone was so infuriating that she was tempted to retort. She didn't want to get into another pointless quarrel with him though, so she held her tongue. When he brought up the issue of her travelling just now, she had been very close to losing her temper; hence why she was so adamant about ending the discussion right there. She knew that nothing she said would change his mind, and even if he claimed that he was still open to options, she was aware he said this only for the sake of saying it.

"Are you implying that all our conversations amount to nothing more than small talk then?" she made sure that she said this in as even a tone as possible. She didn't want to sound too confrontational. The prince's eyes widened, and he shook his head slowly, leaning towards her over the table. Suddenly his hands seized hers, and she stiffened, unsure how to react.

"I would hate for you to think that of our conversations. Though I must admit…I do feel that way sometimes about how we dance around certain topics. Do you not think that we keep far too many secrets from each other? I genuinely wish we would be able to speak freely, the way a fiancé and fiancée ought to. But it's not something I can push towards alone," he told her earnestly, his blue eyes meeting hers. She was still unmoving, uncertain. What he was saying made sense, or at least it would in any other social situation, among any other couple. But they weren't like any other couple. They were not getting married for the sake of love – they weren't even marrying for any noticeable monetary or materialistic gain.

She agreed to his proposal to discover her freedom, and he wished to marry her for some mysterious, unfathomable reason he would probably never explain to her. "If you want us to talk freely, then tell me one thing – why did you propose to me that night at the ball?" the prince was still holding on to her hands, his gaze never leaving hers for a second. Those eyes were so blue that she thought she might one day drown in their depths. "All along, you admitted that you did not wish to take on a bride since you were not yet over your previous fiancée. So, what led to this change of mind? And why would you choose me, of all ladies?"

He was silent for a while. She wasn't sure if she could take her hands out of his grip, but his fingers were so tight around hers that she didn't want to try anyway. Gumo still had yet to interfere, but she could feel the butler studying them intently, trying to determine if they were reaching a point where he would have to step in. She had spent long enough around the butler to figure out what kind of duties Gumo had, and she noticed that the older man occasionally acted as Romeo's conscience, and often reminded the prince to eat. Romeo was the kind of person who would lose himself in his work, hours slipping past without him even realising. And ever since that day they visited Lord Shion's townhouse, she discovered a side to him that was unsettlingly cruel, even manipulative. It was good then, that Gumo was always around the prince, acting as a check so he would not go too far in his games.

Was this now a game? She didn't think his earnest words were even genuine. It just didn't seem to fit his character, or at least what she knew of him. He was thoughtful and cunning; every word designed to carefully probe and suggest. He definitely didn't fit the stereotype of pampered and naïve, which seemed to apply to so many other young noble sons. She suspected it was due to his role as the prince, and perhaps also because of whatever it was which happened to him in the past…she knew so little about him besides the fact that his fiancée and beloved died, and he was adopted by the king subsequently. She did suspect that he attempted to kill himself after his fiancée's death, given that Romeo was the name people gave him, but that had never been confirmed by the prince nor did she try to ask.

"Why you…?" he echoed, his blue eyes acquiring a distant look. He seemed contemplative. "That's a very good question. Would it be sufficient to tell you that it was because of your beauty?" he asked, tilting his head. He looked so serious that she couldn't be certain if he was speaking the truth or not. But this couldn't be it – no, that didn't make sense. He had been so certain that he wouldn't take another bride on the first night. Besides, she knew she was beautiful, but she was not the only attractive maiden attending the ball. If the prince was so easily swayed by mere appearances, then he would have found another girl ages ago. And she had been wearing a mask all three nights, so before he came to rescue her from the cellar, what did he know of her looks? Nothing, really. He had to be lying.

"What's the real reason? We both know your words are nothing more than sweet lies, so let's not play games with each other," she tried to remove her hands from his, but his grip tightened and she found that she was stuck. His expression was still deathly serious, and she was tempted to ask Gumo for assistance so she could leave this conversation and get back to doing as she pleased. But she would humour him for just a little while longer. He was the prince, and he was constantly busy – she had no doubt he would have to leave her to settle state affairs eventually. Truth be told, it was extremely rare to see him not doing work.

"And what do you want me to say?" he whispered, leaning towards her. His face was mere inches away from hers now, and her breath caught. Their lips were almost touching – if he leant in any closer… "Would you prefer a sweet lie? Or a bitter truth? Why would you suspect me of not telling the truth in the first place?" he added, a smile on his face. It didn't reach his eyes.

"I never forgot what you told me the first night of the ball," she told him. He didn't respond to that – either he had been expecting that answer, or he was a very good actor. "You told me you have yet to move on from your fiancée's death. Don't try to convince me that you changed your mind within just three short nights. Even a child would not fall for such a blatant exaggeration," there was slightly more defensiveness than she would like in her words.

"I wouldn't try to convince you of that," his smile never changed. "I respect your intellect far too much to do such a thing. But you still haven't made a decision – do you want the truth, or do you wish to believe a sweet, tender lie? Sometimes, it's better to continue existing under the shadow of a falsehood. Are you sure, Cinderella…sure you want the truth?"

She hesitated. His sly words were getting inside her head, making her question and doubt herself. Did she really want to know everything? The more she found out, the more she got herself embroiled in unnecessary politics. Did it matter anyway, the reason why the prince wanted to marry her? She had already decided that she would escape from the palace and seek her own adventures. Whatever he told her now wasn't going to affect her decision. But she couldn't help but want to find out his reasons…why did he choose her? Her plan, which had seemed so unrealistic, so uncertain, ended up working perfectly. How much of that was because of luck, and how much was due to other reasons? Why did Romeo choose her?

"Tell me the truth," she whispered, unable to continue looking into his eyes. His gaze was too piercing, too searching – she experienced an irrational fear, that if she continued staring into his eyes he would be able to read her thoughts and delve into the most private parts of herself. Of course, she knew that wasn't possible, but whispering this fact to herself didn't ease the chill which ran down her spine. The prince laughed, a quiet sound.

"I'm searching for something, and I hoped to find it through you," he answered simply. "I can assure you that what I just said is definitely the truth, but I will not provide any other details. Please don't ask me what I am searching for – we all have our own secrets, and I'd like to keep some of mine," he glanced down for a second, then pulled her hands closer to him, pressing his lips gently against her knuckles. Where his lips brushed, her skin tingled.

"I will not ask you what you're searching for. But I am rather curious, why do you think you can find this thing through me?" she asked, intrigued. She naturally had not expected him to say anything along the lines of love or emotions, but even so this was an interesting response. Was he searching for a distraction from his past? That was the only reason she could think of – why else would he want another fiancée if not to forget his memories?

One of his hands left hers, reaching up to touch her cheek. His skin was soft against hers. It felt almost natural, his palm cupping her face, and she was tempted to lean her cheek into his hand – but she told herself she couldn't, that this sense of comfort was a mere illusion caused by the physical closeness he forced upon her. It wasn't something she desired. It was just a natural reflex, and she knew she was at a stage where it had to stop. She moved away, turning her head, and the prince's hand remained where it was for just a second longer than what was necessary. "That's a secret too," he murmured, and there was a challenge in his gaze.

"You have so many secrets. And you expect me to tell you everything you wish to know, as and when you please?" she shook her head, incredulous. Romeo suddenly let go of her hands, and she hastily brought them back to her lap, away from the prince. He looked like he was pondering over her words, though she didn't know if he really cared what she thought of their situation. "If you tell me more about yourself, then I'll do likewise. Give and take – it's only polite," she added, wondering if he would agree to such an arrangement. She wouldn't tell him the truth, of course. And he probably had no way to verify what she said anyway.

"That sounds like a nice bargain. What kind of things do you wish to know?" he agreed to this surprisingly easily, which made her wary. It was likely that he would lie to her as well, or at least evade the questions she asked. He was good at twisting words and carefully crafting his responses. But she wasn't going to lose anything from talking to him – after all, there was nothing he could tell her now which she could foresee herself caring much about.

"Tell me more about your fiancée. About what sort of life you led before you were adopted by the king," she requested, having always been somewhat curious about his past. Once again, Romeo did not react – either a testament to his ability to foresee possibilities, or just how good he was as an actor. He did, however, stare at her – he wasn't just looking, he was _studying_ her, and after a while that made her feel vaguely uncomfortable. She was about to prompt him to answer when he suddenly beckoned to Gumo. The butler approached them.

"I have work to do. The letter I need to respond to awaits me in my study, so for now, I'd like you to accompany Cinderella and ensure that she does not fall into melancholy," the prince ordered his butler, entirely disregarding her question. She frowned at him, irritated by how he was outright avoiding the topic, but he didn't even look at her, fussing around with his teacup and his coat sleeves. "You can take my place. For now, do enjoy yourselves, Gumo and Cinderella. I'll see you later when it is time for supper," he added, rising from his chair and moving over towards her. Cinderella was tempted to stand and depart as well.

The prince reached her side and, to her surprise, leant down to kiss her gently on the cheek. "I'll see you tonight," he whispered. "And no, before you accuse me of ignoring you, I will give you an answer. But first, allow me to gather my thoughts, and we'll see how much I tell you in the end. My fiancée is still a sensitive topic for me," something in his voice convinced her to look back up at him, and she saw grief hidden within those deep blue depths.

Cinderella almost felt bad. The mournfulness in his gaze appeared to be genuine, and she hadn't really meant to bring up the past if it still hurt him to think about it. But before she could apologise or retract her request, the prince turned and left, heading back towards the palace. She didn't feel guilty enough to chase after him, so she turned her attention back towards the table with the uneaten biscuits and the pot of tea, still waiting for someone to finish them. Gumo smiled at her, looking enviably peaceful and serene, and she picked up her biscuit, idly wondering if this meant she was free to roam the palace for now. Though having Gumo by her side would definitely restrain her somewhat, she still preferred his company to Romeo's.

"You and the prince certainly get along well," the butler commented as she nibbled on the biscuit, having somewhat lost her appetite. Not that she had been particularly hungry in the first place. "If anyone else had so bluntly asked the prince about his former fiancée, you could be quite certain he would be in a foul mood right now. But he does not treat you that way. You are special to him, you know – even if you do not wish to acknowledge that," he added.

Miku resisted the urge to snort. It would be impolite to do so. A snort would have perfectly summed up her feelings about what Gumo said, however. "You try too hard to see the good in everything, Gumo," she frowned, making it clear through her tone and manner that this was not something she wished to discuss any further. The butler did not say anything more, but that serene smile remained on his face, and Miku found herself wishing she could trust Romeo the same way his butler clearly did. Would believing him improve her life in the palace?


	26. Chapter 26

"Father…what do you want me to say?" Len snapped, voice raised just a little. His adoptive father, who had just returned to the palace less than an hour ago, seemed unruffled by his outburst – he certainly looked tired, yes, but otherwise he was as calm and serene as ever.

He sometimes wondered if he would ever be as tranquil as the king. He thought that some part of him would always be ungrounded, stranded in his past and the possibilities which had been lost to him. "I'm sure you'll be able to find time," the king answered confidently – the ring of exhaustion was present in his words, but he never sounded more certain.

Len gritted his teeth. "You _know_ I have enough problems trying to settle the Merchant Guild's uprising. As if the brittle economic ties we currently have with Veracent do not use up enough of my time. The fishing development has not yet been resolved, and it is the proposed increase in taxes on export volumes you suggested which caused the merchants to protest so vehemently. And now, you want me to visit _him_ and pretend that nothing ever happened?" his anger was boiling over, and he tried his best to keep his voice down. It would not be good to shout at the king, though that was what he dearly wished to do. He still had to show some respect.

"But is that not part of your duties?" the man countered, shrugging off his thick traveller's cloak and passing it to one of the servants, who promptly scurried out of the room with the cloak, not wanting to be involved in a disagreement between the king and the prince. Len exhaled through his nose, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall. This was ridiculous.

"I won't deny that," he finally answered. "But that doesn't mean I have the _time_. You can't just expect me to pack my bags and travel all the way – look, that's beside the point. Didn't you ask me to find out more about Cinderella?" the words came out sounding harsh, almost accusatory. He winced. "If you send me on this errand now, I'll be gone for at least a week!"

The king hesitated. He felt a vicious prick of satisfaction at being able to make the older man back down this way. He knew he shouldn't be petty, but he couldn't help it – this was all still a very sore point for him. "But surely you can spare a week," the king finally spoke again. "It would not be the first time you have gone there…so why are you so reluctant this time?"

Len blinked. That was a good question. He wasn't so far gone that he couldn't see the truth of his father's words. "Maybe because the older I become, the more…the more I want to escape the clutches of that legacy," he threw out, words bitter. He had always been bitter about this particular issue. Visiting Sakine Meito to rectify his problem was unavoidable, but that wasn't the case here. He could very well put this off for another few years, so there was no urgent reason for him to just up and go. He didn't want to face the ghosts of his past.

"Those are mere excuses, and you know that yourself," the king spoke sharply. Len flinched, but didn't try to argue with that. It was the truth. What more could he say? "But very well. If you think that it is not something which requires urgent attention…you would know better than I, given your upbringing. I would advise against tarrying for too long, however. There is no knowing what would happen to the gates if you do not proceed with your regular checks."

"I know that better than you do," Len retorted coldly, and with that, the conversation was over. There was a restless energy in the room following their argument – no, it wasn't really an argument, but he doubted he was the only one who could sense the tension in the air. A while later, the king cleared his throat. "How are things between you and your fiancée?"

"Fine," he still sounded cold. He coughed, shaking his head slightly, and tried to make his voice less hostile. "I don't know…we're getting along as well as we ever could, I suppose. I don't feel like I'm making much headway in terms of getting to know her better," he admitted. The king raised an eyebrow, turning around to look at him – he was standing right next to the window, having been looking out at the palace grounds throughout the entire conversation.

"I'm surprised by that. You always seemed to have a way with the ladies," he observed, and Len couldn't be sure if the king meant that seriously or if he was being teased. "Or at least that was what I assumed, given the many maidens who have been turned away whenever they try to dance with you. I do pay more attention to what goes on at balls than you think," he added when Len gave him an incredulous stare. Len exhaled through his nose once again.

"I've never been interested in them…" he folded his arms across his chest, suddenly feeling somewhat self-conscious. It was truly strange to hear his adoptive father talking about the ladies who often surrounded him. It wasn't something which he wanted, and they sickened him – how many of these maidens were truly interested in him as a person, and how many were there simply for his royal status? One benefit of being engaged to Cinderella was that now, at other parties and balls, they should stop bothering him as much. Back when he was happily engaged to another, all these women were never something he had to care about.

"You do not need to say so for me to understand that," the king smiled. "What I meant was that you certainly have a way with words. Even if you turn away the ladies who are eager to make your acquaintance, you speak well with foreign diplomats and dignitaries. And I know you have a silver tongue, which is why I trust you to oversee so many of Ossyria's affairs in my stead, because I know you will ensure that everything turns out well. What is making this so difficult for you then, in that case?" he asked, his blue eyes piercing through him. Len fidgeted.

How was he supposed to explain why? When he spoke to other noblemen and visitors, they often were trying to leave a good impression on him. Ossyria as a country was powerful, and they were fast recovering from the civil war which had drained their resources and wealth all those years ago. This gave them a distinct upper hand when it came to trade and, given their highly advantageous location – almost every shipping route passed through Ossyria at some point – it was pathetically easy to demand whatever they wanted from the people eager to trade with them. Cinderella was not someone who was as eager to please him.

To start with, she was ridiculously stubborn. And it was plainly obvious that she had plenty of secrets to hide. Whatever those secrets were intrigued him, but she was so tight-lipped that he wondered if she would ever let anything slip. It didn't help that nowadays, it seemed like she was trying her best to avoid him, which was why he had to explicitly corner her and force her to have tea with him this afternoon. There were certain days where he could go almost the entire day without seeing his fiancée even once. Granted, on those days he was usually exceptionally busy himself, but he knew he had to start spending more time with the girl.

If he didn't, then he would never get anywhere with her. He still needed a solid strategy, but right now he had no plans. The two of them were just dancing around each other carefully, hesitantly, both of them just waiting for the other to make a mistake. Whenever he spoke to her, he could feel a thrill running through him – the thrill of risk, the thrill of knowing that there was something at stake. Talking to her was never as simple as just having any old conversation.

What could he tell her about himself? She had asked him about his past, about his life prior to being adopted by the king. Was that something he really wanted to talk about? Those were dark days he'd prefer not to reveal to anyone – but at the same time, if he didn't give her what she wanted, there was no way he would get anything out of her, he was certain. Of course, it wasn't guaranteed that whatever she told him in exchange for his secrets would even be the truth, but if he didn't try, then he would never know. What else could he do?

"She is someone who…insists on keeping her secrets to herself," he finally told his father, a reluctant admission that there was someone out there who could be as stubborn as he was. "There is little I can do to pry the truth out of her, unless I decide to go with torture – and of course, I can't do that given that she is my fiancée. Nor do I think you would want me to," he added, noting the look of horror on his father's face. "I thought not. But there is only so much that sweet words can do with someone who is reluctant to speak. And I am no miracle worker."

"You were never asked to be one," his father inclined his head gracefully. Len narrowed his eyes – he hadn't expected such an understanding response, and the defensiveness which had built up on the tip of his tongue now had nowhere to go. "Take your time, Len…after all, she is your fiancée now. She cannot run away from you, can she?" he asked, turning back to the window. He hesitated. That was true – but at the same time, it sounded so false…

Perhaps it was because he once thought the same thing about his beloved. He thought that she would never be able to leave, bound together as they were through the rings of engagement and an idealised forever. But if love was such a powerful force – if love was able to conquer all – then why did those bonds between them shatter? And why did she leave? He couldn't trust that Cinderella wouldn't leave too. If even the girl who loved him so deeply could leave him, then what of the girl who did not? One day, she might slip away, becoming nothing but a lovely dream…

"Yes, I'll take my time," he echoed, not willing to say anything more. Perhaps, if he refused to give voice to the doubts that lived in his head, he could pretend that what the king told him was true. After all, the adults knew best. They did, didn't they? At least he hoped so.

* * *

"How are you doing, Cinderella?" the king's smile was gentle, and it seemed so warm and well-intentioned – the complete opposite of his adopted son, Romeo. The prince was seated opposite her, silently cutting into his steak, and he didn't look up at his father's voice.

"I'm very well, thank you," she smiled back in response, biting into the fresh vegetables that were served alongside the steak. The king nodded, looking satisfied at her response, and she glanced again at her fiancé – Romeo had already eaten half of his steak, and he looked like he dearly wished he could be anywhere but here, in the dining hall with both her and his father. There was an expression on his face that looked to her almost like unhappiness, but what did he have to be upset about? She hadn't seen him since he left her and Gumo this afternoon.

"That is wonderful to hear," the king declared. Her smile widened slightly, and she nodded her head graciously, returning her attention to her plate. "I have some news to announce. I have already told the prince, which might explain his foul mood at the moment," she met the king's gaze and saw knowingness in their blue depths. "Another ball will soon be hosted in the palace to formally celebrate your engagement. Of course, it will not take three days this time – that is unnecessary – but as you can see, the prince is still none too pleased about it."

"What do I have to be pleased about?" the prince muttered, the first time he had spoken a word since he entered the dining hall. He stabbed his fork into the steak, and she winced – the gesture had been particularly vicious. "That I must once again pretend that I enjoy being a part of such pointless festivities? I don't understand why this is necessary. Isn't it a drain on our resources?" he looked up, shooting the king a dark frown – no, it was almost a glare.

The king was surprisingly placid. He was clearly very used to the prince's tantrums then – Miku didn't think she would be able to put up with Romeo while he was in such a horrible mood. "You may not enjoy it," he conceded, "but it is still custom to celebrate when a member of the royal family undergoes a life-changing event, and I would certainly say that you getting a fiancée qualifies as such an event. Even if you do not wish to participate in this, spare a thought for Cinderella. Did you ask her whether she wanted it?" they both turned to stare at her, the king with a wide smile on his face, and Romeo looking just about ready to murder someone.

She swallowed. Was she supposed to make a decision? It would be very nice to be able to dance, but she had mixed feelings about seeing so many other aristocrats in the palace again. Her stepfamily would most likely attend, wouldn't they? And she wasn't sure if she wanted the prince running into her stepfamily again. It was likely he would try to find out more about her background from them, and that wasn't something she was willing to risk. But if they were not invited, then she would gladly take part in the ball. It would at least be something to pass the time with while she continued to make plans.

"I'd like that, actually," she blinked, ignoring the prince as he went back to stabbing his steak, muttering sullenly to himself. "However, could I just make a tiny request, if that would not be a huge inconvenience?" she hesitated. The king nodded, indicating for her to continue, so she took a deep breath and carried on. "I would like to request that the Hatsune family does not attend the ball this time. I am still feeling rather…unhappy about certain circumstances," she added, giving the prince a careful glance as she spoke. His head shot up when she mentioned her stepfamily, and there was a wondering look on his face now. Was he suspicious of her?

The king looked surprised, but again he nodded, acquiescing to her request. She wasn't sure if the king knew of the circumstances under which the prince discovered her. When he first asked if she wanted him to explain those circumstances to the king, she had said no. But she couldn't be certain that the prince kept his word. For all she knew, the prince went to visit the king while she was bathing and informed him of her confinement in the cellar. If the king knew however, he didn't let on. "We must arrange a date for the ball, then. Preferably as soon as possible."

"I have no time," the prince grumbled, placing his cutlery down on his plate. "And there are better things for me to do with what little time I have. You two can plan it if you wish, and just let me know when I have to show up. I'm going to my study," he got up from his chair, bluntly ignoring all etiquette, and departed from the dining hall. Miku gave the king a look of confusion, but the king just shook his head and sighed, used to his wayward son.

"He is always like that," the king mused. "Extraordinarily quick to anger, with all the impulse control of a young child. I really should begin to drill that out of him – we can't have a king who could potentially begin a war over a mere argument – but then again, I'm hardly ever around the palace," he raised his gaze, eyes crinkling once more into another kind smile. The king really was incredibly different from Romeo. She could only wish that the prince had just the tiniest hint of his adoptive father's temperament. "I hope that your presence might mellow him somewhat."

"That would be a farfetched hope," she answered truthfully, knowing that the prince was even less likely to learn patience through his interactions with her. She was aware that she was not the calmest of people, and her stubbornness certainly didn't help. But it wasn't as though she could just stop being stubborn and spill all her secrets to him. She still did not trust him, and she was looking out solely for her own interests. "I can try, however," she added when the king continued looking at her expectantly, like he wanted to hear more.

"That is good enough. If you would try, it would be sufficient. For if even his fiancée gives up on him, who else would ever tolerate the prince?" the king laughed quietly, and her lips curved into a smile. There was something about this man that made her feel so at ease, as though some part of her instinctively sensed that she could trust him. She would love to trust him, she really would, but until she knew more about the situation she was in, she simply couldn't afford to do so.

"He didn't propose to me out of love, though," she admitted. The sudden confession was a surprise even to her, but the king didn't seem startled by her words. Contrary to that, he was nodding slowly, though an expression reminiscent of disappointment flitted across his features. "He is still in love with his old fiancée…she is dead, isn't she? That much I know."

"Yes, she passed away tragically three years ago. And the prince is still not done grieving," the king murmured. "I do wonder sometimes if he would ever finish mourning…but believe me, he is getting better. You should have seen him two years ago," there was a pause in the conversation, and Miku fidgeted, suddenly uncomfortable. It felt strange to be discussing the prince with his father. "In the beginning, I urged him to find a bride, even if not out of love, but at least out of a sense of duty. He has to provide an heir to the throne, lest the civil war Ossyria underwent years ago takes place again," he went on, tone becoming less sombre. "And maybe in the beginning that was why he proposed to you, but I do think – or at the very least, I hope – that this will come to change with time. Does it offend you?"

She blinked, startled. "Offend me? How so?" she tilted her head, confused. She was not sure how she was meant to be offended by what the king was saying. The king chuckled, gently tapping his fingers against his half-empty wineglass. One of the servants approached to refill his wine.

"That the prince is not with you out of love, of course," he explained. "Other maidens might not be pleased to hear that. But you seem to be taking it rather well! If you have complaints you may still confide in me, however," he raised his filled wineglass, toasting her. "You are soon to be my daughter-in-law, and I care for you as much as I care for my own son," he added, a twinkle in his blue eyes, but she could tell that he meant every word he spoke.

His cheeriness was infectious. Her own mood was lifted slightly, and she toasted him as well, wincing as she took a sip from her barely-touched wineglass. She never drank wine before this, and the bitter taste of the burgundy liquid was not something she found very pleasant. The prince appeared to drink at least half a bottle a day from what she observed of him so far, and she could never understand how he managed to keep it all down.

"Do not drink too much, Cinderella. You have the look of one who is unaccustomed to wine and spirits," the king added jovially, clearly having noticed her grimace. "It is normal for wife and husband to learn from each other, but the last thing you ought to pick up is the prince's terrible drinking habit. It is truly a miracle he is not raving drunk every single day. I should tell Gumo to start hiding his alcohol again," he mused, talking more to himself than to her.

"Red wine is not one of my favourite things," she admitted, carefully placing the glass back down. "It is bitter and foul. I don't understand why the prince enjoys it so," she picked up her knife and fork again, returning to her half-eaten steak. The king sighed at her statement.

"Perhaps because his own heart has long turned bitter," he observed, voice soft, "and what he really needs is someone sweet to come along and heal him. I hope you could be the one to help him, even if he refuses to admit his weaknesses to anyone, even himself," the king fell silent, and for a while there was nothing but the sound of silverware against ceramic. Miku did not answer the king's musings, though what he said did get stuck in her head.

To be the one to heal the prince's heart? Her? That wasn't what she came here to do. And she was not patient enough to try helping someone who would not accept her assistance. She had her own thresholds, her own limits, and the prince crossed them regularly. Though the king's words did make her remember that one night the prince mumbled her name in his sleep…she shook the thought away. She had no time to feel sentimental about Prince Romeo.

* * *

"I'm surprised that you'd want to take part in the ball," the prince groused, sitting with his back towards her, poring over some papers on his table. Miku ignored him, undoing her hair in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection in the polished glass. It was a new mirror.

She saw herself, green eyes misty, a faint blush on her cheeks, her lips slightly parted. It wasn't how she usually looked, and she couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. "You're being _awfully_ quiet. Is there something on your mind tonight?" she jumped as she felt slender hands curve around her waist, a sensuous whisper snaking into her ear. He was pressed against her back, and she shivered, the warmth of his body seeping through her thin nightdress.

When had he come to her? She hadn't noticed, lost as she was in her thoughts. She was barely even looking into the mirror, and as she stared into the glass now, blinking hazily at the smooth surface, she saw the prince with his arms around her, his chin tucked against her shoulder, blue eyes meeting her green ones in the mirror. There was a sly, knowing look in those eyes – deep blue eyes that spoke secrets and a whispered challenge. She wanted to pull away, but his arms were tight around her – and anyway, she wasn't sure if she _could_ move. Her body was numbed. Her mind was numbed. Why wasn't she able to move?

"There's nothing on my mind," she whispered, her voice catching when he tilted his head, allowing his breath to wash out over her bare neck. Her skin, already sensitive, now almost stung. "Let go of me," she ordered. But her words sounded more like a plea than a demand.

"That's difficult…" he breathed, hiding his face in her shoulder. Her bare skin still tingled, and she had to bite her lip to prevent herself from yelping when she felt his teeth lightly, lightly grazing the curve of her neck. "We are both aware of this. No matter what we say to each other, we are still fiancé and fiancée. And I think I've been respectful enough when it comes to boundaries, but at the same time…it's becoming rather tiring to just avoid you all the time."

Her heart was racing. She wasn't sure if it was due to fear or something else. But it couldn't be fear. She didn't fear the prince. Did she? "I'm not ready for this," she answered, glad that her voice didn't waver this time. She truly wasn't, though his scent made her heady and his close proximity was doing strange things to her mind. She felt almost dazed. Or maybe that was the aftereffects of drinking her wine during dinner. She thought she ought to at least finish the glass, assuming that tiny amount wouldn't be enough to make her tipsy. She was wrong.

He hesitated. She felt his arms tense up slightly, then he sighed into her neck, causing an unwilling shudder to run down her spine. She was definitely getting too used to his touch. That wasn't a good thing. She wasn't supposed to get used to that. "A pity then. You should have seen what you looked like when you entered the room, swaying slightly on your feet, that red tint to your cheeks…but I won't force you to do anything you are not willing to do," he suddenly let go of her, and she stumbled, not having realised that while he was holding her, she was leaning onto him, her head beginning to spin. The wine was really kicking in now.

He caught her before she fell. "You shouldn't drink in the future," he mumbled, effortlessly carrying her and placing her on the bed. Fortunately, she had managed to change into her sleepwear before the alcohol really took effect. It seemed like she reacted to alcohol slowly, as it had been a while since she returned from having dinner with his father. He should have stayed there to ensure that she wouldn't drink more than she could handle, but he had stormed off upon realising he had to participate in that stupid ball. He regretted it now.

Len wasn't sure what came over him. All he knew was that he looked up from his papers and saw her there, her face reflected in the mirror, and there was so much _vulnerability_ in her expression that he instinctively yearned to hold her. And he could smell the lingering scent of wine in her breath. He wasn't surprised to find that she could not hold her drink well, but he sat there beside her anyway, smoothing her teal hair away from her face as her eyelids fluttered. "I can hold my drink," she mumbled back, her words almost inaudible.

"No, you cannot. Just a drop more and you would probably be drunk," he chided. It was rare for him to be the nagging one. Usually other people nagged _him_ – other people referring to his butler, the head servant and the king himself. "Believe me, I know. I have drunk myself into oblivion enough times to recognise the signs of tipsiness," he added, hand pausing over her forehead. She mumbled something, though this time he really could not hear her words. "I think I prefer it when you are quiet and vulnerable," he whispered so that she would not be able to listen.

Her green eyes blinked open, still looking hazy. "You said you'd tell me about your past," she spoke up, and he was surprised that she did not slur. She wasn't as drunk as he thought she might be, but she most certainly wasn't lucid either. He deliberated over whether or not he ought to let her know his story. She wasn't in the best state of mind, and he was reluctant to divulge more information about himself anyway – but then again, if she was so tipsy, then it was unlikely she would remember anything he said when she woke up. That was a tempting thought.

"There's nothing much to discuss," he told her. "I was the son of an extremely wealthy nobleman. He had a great deal of power and influence in Ossyria, and he sought to retain and expand that influence. From young I was…" he hesitated. The bittersweet ache was still there – just the thought of his past was enough to make him remember, but he chose to ignore the swell of emotions for once, instead pressing on with his tale. "I was betrothed to a distant cousin. They say that most arranged marriages do not work out, but our case was…different."

Cinderella seemed very interested in what he was saying – a rare change, since most of the time she seemed to wish he would leave her alone as quickly as possible. "You fell in love with her?" she asked, large green eyes blinking uncertainly at him. Her cheeks were still pink. She looked so much like a doll, so pretty, so fragile. He was afraid she'd break if he touched her.

"Yes, I did," he paused. "I will not bore you with what happened in between. But when we were fifteen years old, three years ago…we were due to be married soon," he winced, the thought of that causing actual physical pain to shoot through him. He could feel his heart aching in his chest. A broken heart was meant to be a figure of speech, but why did it hurt whenever he thought of what could have been? "But she said she had just one request – to see the world before she came back and we got married. I said yes without any hesitation."

"And she never came back," Cinderella whispered, repeating the exact same words he had used the first time she brought up the idea of travel. Len flinched, but thankfully she didn't notice. "Did she…did she die while she was overseas?" she asked innocently. If it had been anyone else asking him this question so bluntly, he probably would have lost his temper, but as it was he couldn't bring himself to get upset at his fiancée. She was tipsy. She didn't know what she was saying – she didn't have any idea that her simple question was ripping his heart into tiny shreds.

"Yes," he choked on the word. "Her party was ambushed by brigands, and they robbed and murdered everyone before leaving, her included. Her body was found floating in the river. She had been so close to home…" he murmured, closing his eyes. In his nightmares, he could still see that cold, dead, waterlogged gaze. Those blue eyes, so much like his own, staring accusatorily at him, asking _why_. Why didn't he come and save her sooner? If he had gone to the river earlier, maybe he could have protected her. He had failed in his duties as her fiancé, as her husband-to-be. He had no right to marry anyone else…even if he could move on from Rin, which seemed impossible, how could he be certain that he would be a good husband? He allowed his one true love to die. He didn't deserve to love anyone again.

Warm, slender fingers touched his cheek, and his eyes flew open in surprise. Cinderella was staring inquisitively at him, her green eyes soft and sympathetic. He thought she wasn't lucid, but even in her current state it appeared that she understood enough to feel sorry for him. "It's not your fault, so don't blame yourself," she whispered, her hand lingering against his skin. He felt himself unconsciously leaning into her hand, seeking her warmth, her gentle support, her…her forgiveness? Hearing her tell him this made relief spread through him like water reaching across a flat surface, the cool liquid enveloping everything, healing him.

But it was a lie. Cinderella couldn't forgive him, only Rin could, and Rin was dead. It was a lie he was still willing to believe though, even if it was only for a while. "I can't stop thinking it was my fault," he answered, his voice as quiet as hers, but his hand reached up to continue holding her palm against his cheek. "I _know_ things would have been different if I had gone to see her just a little sooner. I miss her, you know. And I wonder why she didn't take me with her when she passed away. Why wasn't I allowed to chase her into the vast unknown?"

"Maybe because you were meant to meet me," she murmured, but her voice was so soft now that he couldn't be sure if he heard her right. Her eyelids lowered, her breathing becoming slightly deeper, more even. He guessed that she had finally fallen asleep. Staring at her, he reached out to once again smooth her teal fringe away from her eyes. She looked so peaceful in her sleep, like an angel come down from the heavens above. He hesitated. Was she really an angel? The words that she said…it didn't make sense, but when she told him it wasn't his fault, he really wanted to believe. Anyone else who ever told him the same thing was dismissed, but when those words left _her_ lips, he couldn't just forget about them.

Her hand was still in his. After a moment's hesitation, he turned his head and pressed his lips to the back of her hand, feeling the smooth skin against his mouth. He was supposed to investigate her, but it felt like she was the one slowly changing him instead. Why did Cinderella affect him so much when she was nothing more than a stubborn girl he had met at the ball?


	27. Chapter 27

Her eyes flew open, her breaths quick and panicky. She was lying in a dark room, and she could still see her father's face. She blinked, and his face slowly faded away. Nothing but another dream, another nightmare. Bright orange flames licked at the edges of her vision.

She had a mild headache. Miku groaned softly, closing her eyes again and placing her hand against her forehead. There was a dull throb beneath her palm. Maybe some water would help – though truthfully, drinking water was the last thing she wanted to do right now.

When she tried to get up though, she realised that she couldn't move. Turning her head, she saw that she was in bed, right next to the prince, who had his arms wrapped around her as usual. She sighed. She must have fallen asleep. She pushed his arm experimentally, but he didn't budge. That wasn't surprising. It wasn't the first time she tried to squirm free of the prince in the middle of the night, and she had never succeeded in slipping away before.

"Are you feeling all right?" she heard a quiet whisper. She flinched, shocked by the sudden question. It came from behind her, the words almost slurred, but still comprehensible. One of the arms around her waist reached up, and slender fingers touched her chin, turning her head around – she met the prince's gaze. "You drank too much and passed out," he told her, and she was more surprised by the fact that he was actually awake than by his concern for her. He slept so heavily sometimes, it was understandable if anyone ever mistook him for dead.

"I have a slight headache," she answered truthfully, wincing as her head throbbed once more. Was this perhaps a result of the alcohol? Miku was determined not to ever drink again if that was the case. The prince exhaled, and she felt her eyes gently closing as sleep threatened to drag her back into its embrace. Her headache wasn't so bad that she couldn't fall back into her dreams. But her fear of her nightmares made her unwilling.

"It's because of the wine. You need some water. It will make you feel better," he murmured, and she felt his thumb stroking gentle circles over her cheek. She was too tired, too jittery from seeing her father's face to question why he was behaving this way around her. It was too sweet, too tender for the prince. Instead, she reached for his warmth, closing her eyes and leaning her head against his shoulder. He smelled nice – his scent reminded her of the forest.

Len's breath caught as Cinderella edged closer to him, and he felt her soft, silky hair against his neck. "I'm scared," she mumbled. "When I dream, I see things I don't want to see…" her voice faded and he felt her burying her face in his chest. He wondered if she would remember this in the morning. He wondered if she would have done the same thing if she had been fully conscious and aware of her actions. That seemed unlikely. But either way, he felt strange.

"It's just a dream," he whispered. He didn't know what else he could say to comfort and reassure her, but he knew how she felt. He always saw Rin in his dreams too, and even in the good dreams, seeing her face brought him bittersweet pain. It was only in dreams that he could see his dead beloved, but sometimes he wondered if it would hurt less if he never saw her again. "When you wake up, everything will disappear, and you can forget about it."

"It is not so easy to forget…not when you're unsure if it is a dream or a nightmare," her quiet voice wavered. He tightened his hold on her, not knowing how else he could respond. After a while, her breathing turned slow and even, and he knew she had gone back to sleep. But tonight, unconsciousness did not come so easily to him. His rest was fitful, and he envied Cinderella's deep, alcohol-induced slumber. If only he could sleep as soundly tonight.

Recounting his past to Cinderella made him think. And when his mind was so active, it was difficult to just shut everything down. His fiancée made it look so easy, but Len thought he might remain sleepless tonight. It wasn't just because he was forced to remember Rin, however – he was also becoming uncertain about how he felt for Cinderella. He wasn't stupid, and he knew that the protectiveness and fear he was experiencing now wouldn't be present if he didn't have any _feelings_ whatsoever for her. But he didn't want these emotions.

He knew he didn't deserve to love anyone, not after the way he failed Rin. And developing feelings for anyone else would feel like a horrible betrayal. If he promised to love her for an entire lifetime, then he couldn't love anyone else, could he? It certainly wasn't love he had for Cinderella. But she made him feel peaceful, which was something he hadn't experienced in years.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled his slumbering fiancée closer to him and tucked her under his chin, feeling slightly more secure when she unconsciously sighed and nuzzled into his shoulder. He closed his eyes. Now wasn't the right time to be thinking about all this.

* * *

When Len woke up, Cinderella was still fast asleep. The morning light was creeping past the curtains, and he realised with surprise that he had woken up before Gumi came for them. The room was dim, but he could see, so he chose to stare at Cinderella's peaceful face.

He wondered what she was dreaming of now. Last night, it appeared that she was plagued by nightmares, given how she suddenly shot awake, fearful and trembling. But subsequently she did not wake up again, so he guessed that her nightmares did not return. The longer he stared, the lovelier she looked. Her eyelashes were long and still, curling slightly against her cheeks. Her full, pink lips were slightly parted, her teal hair falling messily around her face.

He reached out to stroke her fringe away from her eyes, and his hand lingered for just a tiny bit longer than what was necessary. Sighing, he turned away, getting out of bed – he wouldn't be able to return to sleep, not when he was still feeling so unsure of himself. There were just far too many things on his mind. What his father said yesterday about his duties, that infernal ball, the fact that Cinderella just seemed so unwilling to tell him anything about herself – it was all beginning to bother him. He wanted to forget about his worries but as the prince, he knew he couldn't just wait and hope it would all go away. Life wasn't that simple, was it?

Gumi wasn't here yet, but he could change on his own. He'd always preferred to wear his own clothes anyway. Though it was common for aristocrats to have servants assist them with dressing up, Len thought that was just a pathetic excuse for laziness. Surely one ought to be independent enough to put on their own dress shirt and overcoat. He slid his hand over his dresser, picking a crimson ribbon to tie his hair with. Cinderella turned over in her sleep.

He glanced at her, then sighed again and whipped his hair up into his usual ponytail, making sure his blond fringe wouldn't get in his way. Maybe he really ought to cut his hair, but Len personally preferred his hair longer – when it was short, he looked too much like someone he'd rather not think about. His lips twisted into a wry smile as he recalled the question Cinderella asked him on the first night of the ball – _why don't you cut your hair_? It was such an innocent, innocuous question. He wished he was able to give her the real answer.

With his hair now out of the way, he opened his wardrobe and took out a silky white dress shirt and a pair of black trousers. Whenever Len chose to dress himself, he opted for plain clothing, trying to stay away from anything that would attract too much attention. Gumi and Gumo were the ones who would try to force the ostentatious coats and bejewelled belts on him, despite knowing perfectly well that such luxuries irked him. When he was done and presentable, he walked over to his desk, gaze landing on the opened letter resting there.

The letter Gumi handed to him yesterday. He let out a long-suffering sigh. A polite, _highly_ pointed reminder to grace the opening ceremony of the new basilica, from the Pope himself no less. He didn't want to go. Attending meant he'd have to wear full regal ceremonial robes, and he _hated_ putting those robes on. They were grand, stuffy and extremely impractical. He felt like he was an infant swaddled in wrappings. It was a miracle he could move at all in them.

But if he pretended he didn't notice the letter, Len was certain he'd receive a long-winded, completely unnecessary lecture from the king, which was not something he wished to put himself through. Though…he looked up at Cinderella again, who had curled up beneath the blanket, huddling into a small ball on the bed. The bed seemed particularly empty when she was the only one lying there. Had it always been so big? It looked too big for one person alone.

Perhaps he could drag Cinderella along. She was to marry him, and anyway she did make a deal with him – that if he sent away the governesses, she would follow him wherever he went. It was time to remind her of that promise. A faint smirk curved his lips, and he left the room, intending to find Gumi. She did not have to get him ready for the grand ceremony, but she would have to prepare Cinderella for it, and he was sure that would take some time.

* * *

Miku was in a foul mood. Her head was still slightly achy, though it was tolerable. If she had her way, she'd lie in bed all day – it wasn't like she ever did anything important, anyway.

But no, on the one day where she actually wanted to sleep and not leave the room, her _dear_ fiancé decided that she had to accompany him to the opening of the new basilica. At first, she thought nothing could be worse than having to leave the palace while she wasn't feeling her best, but then she realised she had to dress appropriately for the grand ceremony – and apparently, _appropriate_ here referred to a corset, a ball gown, petticoats, an intricate bun, enough jewellery to fill a pirate's treasure chest and worst of all, a heavy scarlet, fur-lined robe that was too long for her and which occasionally made her trip over her own feet.

She glared daggers at the prince, who was sitting beside her at the balcony, one leg crossed over the other, looking decidedly bored. He was toying with a golden sceptre in one hand, the other hand resting on the hilt of his bejewelled sword. She could remember seeing that blade once before; it seemed like it was more of a ceremonial sword than one used to fight. He was dressed in the same luxurious robes as her, and she wondered how he was surviving in the heat. He didn't seem to be even perspiring, while she was struggling just to breathe.

"Why am I here?" she asked again, the third time since she was told she had to follow the prince out of the palace. The prince exhaled, but didn't even bother to look at her this time. Instead, he rested his sceptre on his lap and started playing with the silver cross that hung around his neck. The silver caught the light of the sun, glinting beautifully – she could see her reflection on the smooth surface. "Don't pretend you didn't hear me," she added.

"I've answered you twice," he hissed through gritted teeth, still not looking in her direction. Below them, one of the priests was addressing the congregation. He had been talking for at least half an hour, and Miku had no idea what he was saying. "You're here because _I_ need to be here, and if I'm here, then you have to follow me. It's part of our deal, in case you forgot. Wherever I go, you have to follow," he reminded her, turning slightly to stare at her now.

Their eyes met, green clashing with blue. His eyes were dark in the dim light, and they were narrowed slightly in irritation. She felt a small prick of satisfaction that she could annoy him, but the feeling was short-lived. No matter how much she vexed him, it wouldn't change the fact that they were both stuck here until the entire ceremony was over. "And why are you here instead of the king? Shouldn't the king be the one attending the ceremony instead?"

Her voice was quiet, but Gumi and Gumo heard her talking anyway. The two servants, who had accompanied them out of the palace to the ceremony, gave her and the prince a quick hush, telling them to be quiet and respect the proceedings. She smiled ruefully at them and went back to glaring at Romeo, waiting for an answer. She hadn't asked this question yet.

Romeo let out an audible sigh. "My father is a busy man with an unpredictable schedule, so it is not possible for even the Church to get hold of him whenever he is needed. Instead, they _request_ that I attend since I'm the prince and clearly, that's enough to satisfy them," he sounded faintly disgruntled. "I do not wish to be here any more than you do," he added, still fiddling with his cross. Looking at his expression, she had no doubt he was telling the truth.

Silence fell between them. It wasn't a comfortable silence – it was tense, almost unpleasant, though she could attribute part of that towards her reluctance to be here. It wasn't that she didn't _want_ to listen to the sermon – she was just so tired that she wished she could be back at the palace, sleeping in her bed. The prince's bed. Their bed. The prince uncrossed his legs, grasping the sceptre again. She snuck a glance at him and saw that he looked extremely bored.

The golden sceptre was one of the palace treasures, and apparently it was brought out for all important events. The other treasures however, like the crown itself, were never taken out of the treasury. Miku still had yet to find the treasury, but she didn't fancy searching for it – she doubted she could steal anything from there anyway even if she stumbled across the place. She went back to staring at the congregation, some part of her mind wondering if anyone would notice if she just fell asleep right there. Gumi shot her a warning look shortly after she considered that, and Miku then wondered if the head servant could read minds.

The priest concluded his sermon, and Miku excitedly thought that maybe now, they could leave. Much to her chagrin, the Pope himself now took the place of the priest, addressing the congregation. The elderly man glanced up at the balcony every now and then, clearly looking out for the prince and his fiancée, and Miku forced herself to stay awake, shaking herself slightly so that she wouldn't doze off and be caught by the Pope. He looked like a strict, stern and pious man, and while that was definitely a good thing, she didn't want to be lectured about how she was a rebellious girl who refused to listen to the word of God. She was just _tired_.

Miku hadn't attended church in years, not since she was twelve years old. Being here was both familiar and unfamiliar – the smoky smell of incense, the dim light with the rainbow stained glass and wax candles and long wooden pews, people listening quietly as the Pope preached. This made her wonder if the prince himself was a devout churchgoer, but as she turned to whisper to him, she realised that his fingers were clenched tightly into fists. He was no longer toying with the items in his possession. The skin of his knuckles was almost white.

She decided against speaking to him then. He didn't seem to be in a particularly good mood. Perhaps the heat and the exhaustion were getting to him? She bit her lip, resisting the urge to yawn, and straightened her back, hoping that would wake her up a bit. She glanced down at her ring finger, where her gaudy, ostentatious engagement ring winked up at her, easily the most eye-catching piece of jewellery she currently wore. The precious metal rested on her skin, and it felt like a suffocating weight, like a chain that locked her to her fiancé.

If only she could get rid of it and earn money in the process. It was easily worth passage on a ship somewhere, and then some. She could pawn off the ring and still survive for a good few months afterwards on her own. But first, she had to get out of the palace…she glanced at the prince, frowning slightly. She couldn't really remember much from last night, but she knew that they had spoken about _something_ , something deeply personal to him. What was it?

It regarded his past, that was all she could recall. Most likely something to do with his dead beloved then. He had promised to tell her more about his life prior to being adopted, hadn't he? Though she couldn't remember the specifics of what he told her. The prince suddenly leant towards her, and she jumped, instinctively turning to stare at him. Because he was now so near, when she turned around his face was incredibly close to hers, and her gaze immediately dipped to his mouth. She was reminded of yesterday, of how close his face had been to hers. Any closer and their lips would touch. Her face warmed, and she backed away.

"What?" she whispered, trying to conceal her discomfort. Romeo blinked at her, those vivid blue eyes widening before he reached out to slide his hand across her forehead, brushing her hair away from her eyes. She remained still, partially out of shock, but also because his fingers were cool against her skin, and it felt surprisingly pleasant. "What are you doing?"

"You look sleepy," he whispered back, a faint smile on his face. "And it would be unfair if you actually fell asleep. After all, I would be blamed for that, not you," he added, tilting his head slightly as he studied her. His hand remained close to her face, and she glanced at it, wondering if he'd take it away. "Oh, entertain me, Cinderella. I'm losing my mind here."

"You should pay more attention to what's going on," she hissed, batting his hand away from her. She felt a sudden thrill go through her when their skin touched, but was determined to ignore it, deciding that the shocking sensation was because of the dim light and the incense. It was doing strange things to her mind. The prince rolled his eyes, but he continued to look at her. She was certain that his gaze softened and he came just a tiny bit closer to her –

Right at that very moment, the Pope finished his sermon, much to her relief because it gave her something else to focus on. She turned away from Romeo again, right in the nick of time because she felt like if she had stayed there for just a second longer, _something_ would have happened. She didn't know what, but she could feel it, and she trusted her intuition. Miku had no idea if she was thankful that the Pope chose that moment to end, because while she knew she definitely didn't want anything to happen between her and Romeo…

Maybe part of her was curious. Part of her wondered what might have happened if the Pope didn't stop and she stayed there, waiting for the prince to do something. Anything. Her heart was beating too quickly – she couldn't allow anything like this to happen again. Knowingly or not, the prince was getting inside her head, and the longer she stayed with him, the more she would lose herself. She had to make her escape soon, whether she was prepared or not.

"It is time for you to lead the ceremony, Your Highnesses," Gumi's voice was quiet but firm. The prince turned slightly, acknowledging the servant's words, and both of them rose from their seats, Romeo with an elegant grace that belied just how cumbersome their robes were, while Miku rose on shaky legs, trying her best not to trip in front of everyone. The prince waited for her to be ready before reaching out an arm for her to hold, and she clutched tightly on to him, telling herself that she was only using him for support – that it didn't matter what else he did because everything now was for the sake of appearances.

They went down the stairs towards the lower floor of the basilica, Miku still trying to keep her balance despite her heavy robes and her ridiculously long gown. It was hot and stuffy, and she desperately hoped that this part of the ceremony wouldn't take too long so they could go back to the carriage as quickly as possible and she could finally remove her robes. She tried not to catch the eye of anyone in the pews as they walked through the archway down the aisle, towards the front of the basilica. She could feel all those gazes fixed upon her…

A cursory glance revealed that her stepsisters, Anastasia and Lucinda, were not present, and she heaved a quiet sigh of relief. Her biggest fears wouldn't be realised then, in that case. It wasn't surprising that they hadn't shown up anyway – her stepsisters could hardly be called devout. However, as they steadily made their way to the front, her gripping the prince's arm tightly the entire time, she noticed someone very familiar – the person turned and met her gaze, and her heart stopped. For a moment, she swore her father was staring straight at her.

Then she blinked, and those green eyes blinked slowly back at her, no trace of surprise at all in their depths. Her stepmother watched her, hands placed primly on her lap, and Miku could see no sign of recognition in her expression. She knew her stepmother must have realised it was her – after all, it had only been less than a month, she could not possibly have forgotten what her stepdaughter looked like – but the woman didn't react in any way to her presence.

She was unsure how that made her feel. It was good that her stepmother didn't try to say or do anything to her in public – but that also made her wonder what the woman had planned. She was too suspicious to believe that her stepfamily would just let her be. Her stepsisters would hate her for escaping their clutches and entering the palace. While her stepmother had never shown any particular sign of antagonism towards Miku, she was still…well, for lack of a better word, she was still the enemy. And Miku could not afford to be careless.

Sometimes, being a bystander was the worst crime of all. Familiar bitterness surfaced in her stomach, but she suppressed it, keeping a gentle smile on her face as they approached the altar. The prince knelt first, his vivid crimson robes pooling around him, and she followed suit, glad that she somehow managed to curtsey in her heavy robes without stumbling.

Then they rose, and the prince turned to address the crowd, speaking with a confidence and assuredness which seemed to enthral the masses. As she listened, her eyes grew wide with shock – she knew it was the prince who was speaking to them, yet at the same time it felt like a completely different person. There was something about the way he spoke now that could capture anyone's attention, even hers. She listened to him, utterly surprised by just how convincing, how charismatic he could be when he really put his mind to it. She couldn't even remember what he said. His voice washed over her, soothing and rhythmic, almost like a lullaby. But it wasn't the kind of lullaby which put one to sleep. His voice was smooth and persuasive, and if she listened for too long, she might end up forgetting who she was…

He had a beautiful voice. How had she not noticed it before? Maybe because he had never spoken this way in front of her before, nor did he talk to her this way. This was not Romeo, the infuriating prince who seemed determined to get on her nerves at every opportunity. This was the Crown Prince of Ossyria, the future king of the country, the one who could lead them to either glory and prosperity, or endless war and doom. And the people would follow him no matter what.

She bit her lip, so hard that she thought she tasted iron in her mouth. Further proof that she had to get away as soon as she could. What if she really ended up falling for him, or for the honeyed words she now knew could spill so easily out of his mouth? He was a charismatic leader, and she wasn't impervious to such gentle, persuasive whispers. Miku made up her mind – she would have to make her escape by next week, otherwise she might never leave.

* * *

"That was an excellent speech, Your Highness," Gumo praised him as they entered the carriage, Len sitting opposite his fiancée. Cinderella had been eerily quiet ever since they departed the basilica, and he was beginning to feel a little concerned. She was not looking at him.

"It was nothing," he dismissed. He was a good speaker, he knew that – his father was not wrong when he mentioned Len's silver tongue. Given his family background, it wasn't very surprising that Len was good at persuading people to listen to him. "And those who were present today were already devout followers anyway. Convincing them to part with their money to help the church grow was no difficult task," he pointed out. Gumo nodded in acknowledgement, holding the carriage door open so that his sister could come inside.

Cinderella still was not looking at him, her gaze fixed on something in the distance. He leant forward, taking hold of her hand – it was only then that she jumped slightly, her green eyes meeting his. Those eyes held all the surprise and nervousness of a startled deer. The frown on his face softened. "Sit with me," the words were spoken impulsively, and the girl stared at him, uncertainty all over her features. His butler, who was sitting beside him, did not say anything in response to that – he just got up, waiting to swap seats with Cinderella.

Cinderella eventually rose as well, though it was somewhat reluctantly, and she changed places with his butler. The Nakajima twins closed their eyes and dozed off the very moment they were both seated, making his lips tilt up into a wry smile. Though servants were not supposed to sleep in front of their masters, he said nothing – he knew that Gumo and Gumi were tired from the day's events, and they deserved a break. Besides, he had better things to do than to admonish his servants for being human. He glanced at his fiancée.

She was now staring down at her lap, though she allowed him to continue holding her hand. Experimentally, he let his thumb trace meaningless patterns over her smooth skin, and she still said nothing – she didn't even look up at him. He had to wonder if the whole ceremony had tired her so much that she managed to fall asleep with her eyes open. Honestly, that wouldn't surprise him. Cinderella was a girl with many secrets; who knew what hidden talents she possessed? And he didn't forget that she most likely still had a slight headache, so it was understandable if she was sleepy.

"Are you tired?" he asked. Showing concern was always a good thing, wasn't it? And he wasn't even faking it anyway – he genuinely was worried about her. It was unlike her to be so quiet. Cinderella nodded slowly, her gaze finally meeting his. Her normally sharp green eyes were dreamy and unfocused, as though she was looking past him rather than at him. "Then you should rest when we return to the palace," he decided. She nodded again.

"That was a good speech you gave just now," she added, a sudden smile gracing her pretty face. He blinked, surprised by her unexpected comment, but nodded in thanks anyway. "Were you always such a persuasive speaker?" she continued, and he wasn't sure if she was talking to him or to herself. "If you were, I never realised. You don't usually talk that way."

"I don't have to," he pointed out, raising an eyebrow. She seemed to be in a rather odd mood. His fiancée blinked at him, then turned away, gazing out of the other window. He reached out and caught her chin, turning her head back towards him. She didn't resist, and he stared at her, wondering if he could possibly continue the conversation. For once, Cinderella did not seem unwilling to chat, so he ought to make full use of this chance. "One day you'll have to address the public as well, you know," he told her. "As the princess, and in the future as the queen."

"Truly?" she seemed unconvinced. He glanced at Gumo and Gumi, now glad that they had fallen asleep so quickly. It wasn't a very long ride back to the palace, but it was long enough, so that should give them sufficient time to rest and enough time for him to have a proper conversation with Cinderella. "Perhaps I will break tradition and not have to do so. I dislike public speaking," she admitted. "I don't even particularly like being in the public eye."

"That is something you will have to become used to, as the princess," he shook his head. "The royal family has many duties, and appearing in public, giving speeches to the masses – they are only two of those duties, but they are particularly important. You cannot rally a nation without personally addressing the people. And that ability to gather crowds, to make them listen to us, is a rare privilege and gift that we have to make use of."

"Sometimes I wish I never became part of the royal family," she whispered, and her words sounded surprisingly honest. He didn't know how to respond to that. For once, his usual eloquence failed him. "Life would be so much simpler if I could be back home, not a care or worry in the world. Sometimes I wonder if things would be easier if I never left my parents – if I just insisted on staying with them, even when they tried to send me away…"

"But then you wouldn't be able to help rebuild your family's fortune," he pointed out. That was the main reason why she decided to marry into a noble family in the first place, right? So that she could help her family out of their economic situation? She bit her lip, refusing to give him an answer. He decided not to probe any further – he didn't want her to shut down and ignore him. "Do you remember anything from last night? What I talked to you about?"

Since they were being truthful with each other, he might as well ask. Cinderella hesitated – he could see the uncertainty in her green eyes – but finally she shook her head. He wasn't sure if he could trust her on that or not, but again he found it difficult to doubt her. "That's good then," he mumbled to himself, and she frowned, unable to catch what he was saying. "Oh, it's nothing," he smiled, leaving it at that. She continued to frown, but she didn't ask more either, and they both lapsed into silence. Len had no idea how to continue talking to her, and anyway he wanted to think. Did he want her to remember last night or not?

At this point, he wasn't sure. He wasn't really sure about anything – he couldn't even sort out his own feelings, which frustrated him to no end. What she said about wishing she had never become part of the royal family – he shared those sentiments too. If only his beloved had not died due to his negligence – if only he never became the king's adopted son, if only he never met the teal-haired girl who now sat quietly beside him, staring out of the window.

Though all those 'if-onlys' never got anyone anywhere. He exhaled. The sooner he got to the bottom of Cinderella's many mysteries, the better it would be for them. Once he discovered her true identity and reported it to his father, then there would be no more reason for them to remain engaged, and they could continue their separate lives as though nothing had ever happened. Maybe he should stop worrying about his confused feelings and just focus on the task at hand. What had feelings ever done for him anyway? Feelings only resulted in a world of heartache, pain and fear. That was why he had sworn never to love again.

Emotions weren't important. How he felt for her wasn't important. He just needed to finish the task at hand. He'd treat her the way he treated any other task – by being efficient and as emotionally detached as possible. He had already gotten this far; he couldn't turn back now.


	28. Chapter 28

He couldn't get her out of his head. Len gritted his teeth, placing his quill down. The most he could last was fifteen minutes before Cinderella waltzed through his mind again, distracting him from his thoughts with images of her large green eyes and her gently smiling lips.

Len didn't want to think of his fiancée. She had never been such a distraction before, and if he had to be truthful, there really was no reason why she should be a problem now. After all, she was hardly ever around him when he was working. And after they returned from the ceremony at the basilica, she seemed to spend most of her time on her favourite balcony, talking and laughing with Gumo. She wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary, so why did he still feel so uneasy – as though some kind of great change would take place soon?

There was a knock on the door, and he looked up from the charts the treasurer had handed to him this morning. "Come in," he called, grateful for something new to focus on. All these papers were beginning to exhaust him. The door opened, and his butler came in, pushing a trolley in front of him. The trolley carried a teapot, a bowl of vanilla pudding and a platter of biscuits. "Oh…is it teatime already?" he glanced at the clock. He hadn't noticed the time.

"Yes, it is, Your Highness," Gumo answered, picking up the teapot and pouring out some hot tea for Len. He took it gratefully, inhaling the familiar soothing scent of Earl Grey, one of his favourite black teas. "You should rest a while before you resume working lest your health suffers," the butler continued, placing the bowl of pudding on Len's desk. Len waved those cautionary words away, picking up a spoon and taking a bite of the pudding. It was smooth and sweet, the vanilla subtle and not too overwhelming, just the way he liked it.

"How is Cinderella?" he asked, unable to prevent the question from leaving his mouth. He just wanted to know what she was doing now since he hadn't seen her at all after they had breakfast. His butler paused, looking up curiously at the question – perhaps he did not think the prince would want to ask about his fiancée. Normally he wouldn't ask since he had other things to focus on, but today he was feeling particularly…well, he just wanted to know.

"She is wandering the palace grounds as always, Your Highness," Gumo replied. "She seems determined to explore every inch of the palace – I once asked her why, and she claimed she intends to make a map of the palace. I truly hope she said that in jest, since mapping the palace would require much effort. The area it covers is not small," the butler smiled.

Len shook his head in mock dismay. "She needs something else to distract herself with," he muttered, though his lips curved up at Cinderella's words. It sounded exactly like something she would say. Gumo continued to watch him curiously as he sipped his tea, steadily finishing his vanilla pudding. He seemed like he wanted to ask the prince a question.

Finally, the butler opened his mouth. "Forgive me for asking, Your Highness, but I am rather curious – when you proposed to her, did you have any other reason besides…finding her attractive?" he asked. Len raised an eyebrow, and the butler hastily continued. "I did not mean to imply that you had any ulterior motives, but that is certainly what Cinderella appears to think, and I cannot help but wonder why she would feel that way. But of course, if this is too personal to answer, then do pardon my transgression," he added respectfully.

Len hesitated. He was unsure if he could answer his butler's question truthfully – Gumo and Cinderella _were_ fairly close, after all. At least he was certain that his fiancée spent far more time around his butler than the other palace servants. Even if he instructed Gumo not to tell Cinderella a single word he said, it was possible that he might accidentally let something slip – not that Cinderella didn't already suspect him of possessing ulterior motives, but he did not want to provide confirmation of that. "She overthinks," he dismissed Gumo's question.

"Perhaps she does," the butler acknowledged, though his green eyes remained curious, as if unconvinced by the prince's claim. "She seems rather lonely at times, Your Highness," he added, and Len blinked, surprised by this bit of information. "Though she may not say so aloud, I think that she might desire your company. You are not spending much time with her nowadays, and she has lately taken to staring listlessly at the palace grounds. It is becoming a concern to the other servants," he explained, retrieving the teapot and placing it carefully back on the trolley. Len dabbed at his mouth with the cloth napkin provided, frowning.

"Then get someone to entertain her," he answered, handing the napkin to Gumo. The butler placed it next to the teapot as Len broke one of his biscuits in half, eyeing the crumbs which scattered upon his plate. "There are many things she can do here – and I can ill afford to just accompany her all day. I have other priorities," he sounded snappier than he intended.

Gumo hesitated. "If you may allow me to give my opinion, Your Highness…" Len nodded at him, granting him permission to carry on. The butler cleared his throat. "I think that if you do not start showing more concern for the things that she does, she may do something that you will both regret. I cannot explain why," he added when Len shot him a suspicious look, "it is just a feeling that I have. The fact that she has not been acting like herself makes us all worry for her. Even though we can give her any luxury she may wish for, it is also human to desire company. You are her fiancé. Come what may, you are not replaceable to her."

He felt his eyebrow twitch. "If I go ahead and bring her out, who will take over my duties?" he asked, pushing his platter of biscuits aside. Suddenly, he had lost his appetite. Gumo just shook his head slowly, not able to provide him with an answer. "I have too many duties to keep track of, Gumo. I am both the prince of Ossyria and Cinderella's husband-to-be. But if I have to choose, we all know that the country comes first," his tone softened. "I swear that when things settle down, I'll do what I can to humour her. It'll just be a few more weeks."

Gumo seemed unconvinced, but wisely, he did not question Len any further. "You truly are occupied nowadays, Your Highness," he changed the topic, watching as Len picked up one of his papers, analysing the information he was given. "What is happening now such that you have so little time?" the prince glanced at the butler, whose concern shone clearly in his bright green eyes. He was suddenly reminded of Cinderella, whose eyes were so green, just like Gumo's – he shook his head sharply. Why did everything have to remind him of her?

"The merchants. Trade with Veracent. The mutiny. The fishing union. Alone they would be easy to handle, but everything all came together at the worst possible timing," he muttered, placing a hand against his forehead. He could feel the beginnings of a headache. "I believe it should be settled soon – that is what the Council is for, after all – but since the king himself is unable to offer an opinion on the proceedings, then it is my duty to familiarise myself with the situation at hand. That is what's taking up most of my time, rather than coming up with a workable solution. The Council is simply waiting for me to provide my seal of approval."

"You have never taken this long to look through their proposals before, however," Gumo observed. "Is there something wrong with what they are suggesting?" Len shook his head again, but this time it was a response to Gumo's query. It wasn't the proposal that made him so hesitant – at least, not entirely. The suggested solutions here actually made sense.

But what concerned him was the fact that some of these solutions – such as making use of the noble guardsmen to settle the merchant revolt, or sending some men to Veracent as a gesture of goodwill – would only increase royal reliance on the Founding Four. The last thing Len wanted was the Kagamine family being given even more responsibility or privileges than they already possessed. If it was possible, Len would like to find a solution that did not make such heavy use of alternative resources, and _that_ was giving him the greatest headache.

"The Kagamine family seeks too many benefits for what they are worth," he answered, and the butler did not question any further. The prince very rarely brought up the family he had been born into, and when he did, it either meant the situation was truly serious, or he was in a particularly foul mood. Very often, it was a combination of the two. "Anyway, you can clear the biscuits now. I am not keen on finishing the rest," he indicated the platter.

Gumo obediently cleared the remaining biscuits, placing it all carefully onto his trolley and pushing it out of the room. He closed the door behind him as quietly as he could, taking the utmost care not to make any sound. He did not wish to distract the prince – the more he could focus on his work, the sooner he could complete everything, and the sooner he could spend time with his fiancée. Gumo was genuinely concerned for Cinderella. She was still smiling and chatting with him as though nothing was wrong, but more than once he caught her staring listlessly into emptiness, and it was so unlike her that…he had to say something.

He hoped that the prince would come to pay more attention to his bride-to-be. Ever since the first day Gumo knew him, the prince had shut away his emotions in favour of forgetting. He wanted to sink into oblivion, to forget the pain of losing someone he loved – but what the prince did not realise was that blocking out the pain also led him to suppress all other emotions as well. He couldn't empathise, not when he couldn't feel anything he didn't want to feel. That was why Gumo was always looking out for him, ensuring that he did not go too far with the things he said or did. It wasn't that the prince was cruel or callous. He genuinely couldn't remember how hurtful words and actions could be – every time he compared other people's anguish with his own past agony, he never thought they were worth caring about.

Nothing Gumo, Gumi, or even the king could say to the prince would change his mind. He was set in his ways, convinced that only he knew what true pain felt like. Everything else, everyone else's pain, was only secondary. Gumo's greatest fear was that the prince would forget how to love or care for anyone, but when Cinderella came into the palace, he could see the prince slowly, gradually changing. Granted, it was slow, but at least it was a change.

Perhaps he was not yet able to see it for himself, but Gumo was sure that even the prince knew that Cinderella made him react differently compared to other people. He hoped that nothing would go wrong, that Cinderella would stay long enough to help the prince recall what it felt like to care for someone. Because if there was anyone who could do it, it had to be her – she came in with no intentions of becoming the queen, and he could tell that she did not truly love the prince. Yet from the very beginning, the prince had shown signs of concern for Cinderella, which he definitely had never done for anyone else before.

Why she was so different, Gumo didn't know, but at least he _knew_ that she was different. He suspected that Cinderella had something on her mind, and feared that if anything were to happen to her, the prince would reach a point of no return. She had to be kept safe and happy if they ever wanted the prince to learn and grow. But how could they ensure that?

* * *

"The ball shall be held three weeks from now. That ought to provide sufficient time to get all preparations ready and send the necessary invitations out. What do you think of that, Your Highness?" Gumi was rattling off suggestions faster than Miku could follow. She nodded dazedly, and the head servant carried on with her checklist. "We need an orchestra. And the kitchen must prepare more food, the previous ball ran out of food faster than anticipated –"

"Why am I planning this ball with you?" Miku interrupted, still unclear where she fit into all this. Gumi paused and turned, her green eyes alight with a fervent glow. Miku swallowed nervously – by now, she had realised that whenever Gumi wore such an expression, it was best not to interrupt or question her. "Oh, I mean you should carry on –" she began.

"Because," the head servant cut in, abruptly shutting Miku up, "you are the princess of this palace and it is part of your duties to ensure that all events at the palace are run smoothly. Because it is a ball meant to announce _your_ engagement and upcoming marriage, therefore you ought to have a hand in planning your own celebration. And finally, because you have been spending the whole day idle and planning something like this will be good for you!"

Miku nodded meekly, afraid of provoking Gumi again. She had just been quietly sitting at the balcony, minding her own business, when the head servant suddenly swept in and dragged her away from her seat, stating that she had to attend to some royal matters. It turned out that these important royal matters were just the engagement ball. Miku was hardly interested in that – she doubted she would still be around by the time the ball took place – but she absentmindedly nodded along whenever Gumi asked for her opinion.

"Why isn't the prince helping to plan any of this?" she asked after some time when there was finally a lull in Gumi's spiel. Gumi blinked, looking surprised that she had been asked such a question. "After all, it is his engagement celebration as well…" she pointed out, a little awkward. It sounded like she was trying to shift responsibility, which she _was_ , but she didn't want to make it too obvious. Gumi sighed, and Miku sensed that she _just_ managed to avoid rolling her eyes. Was the question that silly? But when the head servant answered, it sounded like all her irritation was directed at the prince rather than at Miku herself.

"He is obsessed with his work, that prince. He'll work himself to death one of these days," Gumi groused. Miku raised an eyebrow, wondering if the irony of that statement was lost on the head servant. "I've tried persuading him to rest for a while, but he absolutely insists on reading through all his proposals by tonight, so we may not even see him at the dinner table. Do you feel lonely without him, Your Highness?" Gumi suddenly sounded sympathetic.

"What? No, of course not!" she blurted out instinctively. The servant stared at her, and she realised that her reaction may have been a little over the top. "I meant to say, I do desire his company, but I can entertain myself since he is so busy at the moment. Ossyria should come before me, naturally," she smiled sweetly, hoping that Gumi would forget about her slip up.

"It is also natural to miss your fiancé since he is someone you are close to," Gumi sounded even more understanding now, and Miku realised the servant must have assumed that her hasty words were said in an attempt to mask her disappointment. "My brother told me that the prince claims he will be done with all his work soon. He will be able to give you more attention then, so you need not worry," Gumi continued cheerfully. Miku swallowed.

"Oh, that's lovely," she tried to sound as upbeat as possible. Gumi didn't seem to notice that there was anything amiss, much to her relief. "I would hate to be a distraction. I hardly ever see him nowadays, he's always locked away in that study. I don't have much else to do since he is unable to accompany me and apparently, I cannot leave the palace without an escort."

"You could always ask Gumo to leave the palace with you. He is the prince's butler, and the prince has ordered him to fulfil your every desire. If you wish to take a stroll outside the palace, you need only ask, and he will follow," Gumi pointed out, and rightfully so. But Miku didn't want to just walk around outside the palace. She wanted to go to the market, which Gumo would never allow. The butler thought it was beneath her to visit the dwellings of the peasants, so only Romeo would accompany her there. And Romeo was presently busy with work.

"I do not wish to trouble him," she didn't try to explain the real reason why she never asked Gumo to accompany her. Gumi frowned, but Miku hastily changed the subject before the servant could nag at her. "Tell me more about the prince," she suggested, saying the first thing that came to mind. Gumi paused, eyes widening in surprise, and Miku waited for her to tell her something.

"Stories about the prince?" Gumi hummed. It appeared that she had momentarily forgotten about planning for the ball, which greatly pleased Miku. If she had to agree to yet another decoration and arrangement for the ridiculous celebration, she would go mad. She could now see why Romeo was so annoyed about having to participate in the ball – the more she listened to Gumi fussing, the more she wished she had never agreed to host the ball in the first place. "What would you like to know about him, Your Highness? Besides his real name, of course. He still has not given any of us permission to reveal that to you."

"Oh, I don't know. Anything which you think might be interesting," Miku glanced around the room in idle boredom. Right now, she was in the ballroom with Gumi, trying to decide which decorations to put up, and she wished she could be outside among the rose gardens. Anything but here.

"Well…" Gumi perked up, as though an idea had come to mind. "I know not which stories I can tell you and which ones the prince would never allow to see the light of day, so I must be wary of the things I say to you. However, I _can_ tell you my little observations about him, if that may so interest you," she added. Miku nodded, and the head servant continued. "What we servants all know is that the prince struggles to feel. His circumstances and his past caused him to shut away his feelings, and it is difficult for him to show much emotion towards another."

She did not find this surprising. She already knew that Romeo was a good actor and that he was extremely traumatised by his fiancée's death. In public, he showed her affection because he had an image to maintain, and even in private she did not think that his soft, sweet words were genuine. Hearing that he was practically incapable of experiencing emotion was therefore not a revelation to her.

"However, he _does_ care about people, though it is something he struggles with. Gumo and I both know that the prince treasures our company," there was a tiny smile on Gumi's face, "especially since we have been there with him since the very first day he entered the palace. He will never admit it out loud, but to him, we are companions rather than mere servants. It may sound presumptuous of me to say such a thing, but it is the truth, and I do not wish to hide that from you. I tell you this Your Highness, because I am very sure that you are someone the prince cares for deeply as well, though his actions and words may contradict that."

Miku blinked. Now, _this_ was surprising. "You are optimistic if you believe that is the case," the words slipped out of her mouth thoughtlessly. "What makes you think so?" she could not bring herself to believe Gumi's words. They just seemed too improbable to be true.

Gumi's smile was gentle and knowing. "Have you ever seen the way he looks at you?" she asked. "That is not the expression of someone who does not care. He may be a good actor, but if he has one weakness, it is that his eyes cannot lie. His gaze is _tender_ , Your Highness. He does not wear that expression with anyone else, not even with his beloved horse, Frost."

Did the servant just compare her to the prince's horse? She opened her mouth, prepared to rebut Gumi's claim – and she did not appreciate being likened to a horse, thank you very much – but before she could say anything, the ballroom doors swung open and the prince strode in, leaving both her and Gumi speechless. He was looking around the ballroom, and his gaze suddenly fell upon her. He relaxed, the tension in his body noticeably disappearing.

He began walking in her direction just as Gumo burst into the ballroom after him, looking a little frazzled. "Your Highness, you still have ten more letters to write –" the butler called after him, but Romeo held out a hand and Gumo quietened. The prince finally reached her, and she met his gaze, looking at the small frown which marred his otherwise flawless face. She wondered what he might possibly want from her, especially since it appeared that he was busy right now.

"Gumo told me that you were feeling restless. I'm therefore here to fulfil my duty as fiancé and keep you entertained," he swept into a graceful bow, and when he looked back up at her there was a tiny smirk on his face. She bit her lip, resisting the urge to laugh. There was just something particularly roguish about his smile that made him seem genuinely charming. For once, she didn't think of that smile as an act. "If I may ask you for a dance, my love?"

"I believe there must be a reason why you are sweet-talking me today," she answered, but she placed her hand in his anyway. Gumi and Gumo exchanged a look, and both of them went to the piano at the far end of the ballroom, Gumi seating herself and preparing to play. The prince simply shook his head, his intense stare never leaving her, and suddenly she felt overwhelmed by his piercing blue eyes. Those eyes could drown someone in their depths.

A lively melody began to play, and he swept her into a smooth waltz, the steps as familiar and welcoming as breathing to her. She had not danced since the ball meant to celebrate his birthday, and she could feel joy bubbling within her, escaping her mouth in sweet peals of laughter that utterly mesmerised Len. There was a faint hint of pink to her cheeks that made her look radiantly innocent, and she was so lovely that his chest ached to look at her.

It had not been a bad decision to take a break and find his fiancée. He didn't know why he suddenly yearned to look for her – maybe it was Gumo's influence, all the words he said during teatime – but he just knew that he was tired of working, and he missed Cinderella. He had no way of denying that, especially not to himself. She was stuck in his head even though he had not bumped into her the entire day, and he simply wanted to see her again.

He did not regret the choice he made. It was rare to see her this way, laughing and enjoying herself. For once, there were no walls – her expression was open and unguarded, and when she met his gaze, her green eyes sparkled with delight. He knew she loved dancing – she had to, given the way she danced with him at the ball – but he had underestimated how much she would enjoy herself. He could lose himself in that smile, and he wouldn't even regret it.

"You really love to dance," he observed as he steered her around the empty ballroom, easily keeping up with her. She nodded, cheeks still flushed with excitement. It was worth putting aside some work just to see her enjoying herself this way. He knew it was something that he would keep in his memories forever. There was something so genuine about Cinderella at this very moment that he could imagine himself slowly unravelling the mysteries which surrounded her. If she was like this around him all the time – if she could be so free and open, then he would be able to find out what his father wished to know. And then they could both stop playing their little games with each other. He could just be Len. And she could be…herself.

He was starting to realise that he didn't want to let her go. In the beginning, he thought that after he was done with his errand, he might let her go her own way if she wished, given that they were not yet married by that point. But he didn't want her to leave, not anymore. It was still not out of love, for he didn't love her, but he…he definitely cared about her, much more than he cared for anyone else he knew. Not as much as he once did for Rin, but he still cared.

"Whenever I dance, I am reminded of my father," she told him. It was unexpected, and he looked up at her, startled by what she just said. She had volunteered information about herself, and he had not needed to prompt her for it. "When I was a child, my parents used to play music in our summer cottage, and he would twirl me around and around the room while my mother laughed and danced with us. Those were happy times, before…things changed."

A shadow fell over her face, and he paused when he saw how stricken she looked. It was the first time she allowed herself to reveal so much emotion – it was so raw, so real that he was taken aback by just how _intensely_ she felt. Gumi continued to play, but they did not carry on dancing. He could see her eyelashes trembling, and he realised that she was about to cry.

Impulsively, he pulled her closer, nestling her against his shoulder. She hiccupped, a tiny sob that was both delicate and heart-wrenching. The music stopped, but he did not react to that – instead, he just held Cinderella as she hid her face against him. The wetness of her tears soaked through his shirt, but he didn't care – the shirt didn't matter in comparison to her sadness. One arm was wrapped around her, and his other hand hesitantly reached up to stroke the back of her head. She continued to sob, quiet little sounds of misery, and when he looked up he saw Gumo and Gumi quietly departing the ballroom, leaving them alone.

"It's all right," he whispered, not knowing how he could comfort her. Rin had never cried in front of him. He never had to console someone before. Usually, other people showed sympathy for him, not the other way around. "Everything will be all right. Don't cry," his grip on her tightened. "It hurts to see you cry," the words unintentionally slipped out of his mouth.

But it was the truth. He didn't like seeing her upset. It made him feel strange – like he ought to be doing something to make her feel better, but he didn't know what to do. And standing here, unable to do anything but offer her empty words of consolation – it made him feel utterly useless. It was not a feeling he enjoyed. Cinderella hiccupped again, her shoulders shaking, and he continued to stroke her hair, wondering why she was suddenly feeling so upset.

He knew that her family had lost their wealth in the textiles business, meaning that she most likely underwent some significant changes in her life. But was that enough to warrant such misery? He couldn't help but feel that there was more, far more which she had yet to tell him. But now was not the right time to ask. How long had she been holding all this sadness in while she was in the palace? She always seemed so strong, so fiery and independent. She had never wanted his protection, and she made that plainly obvious. This was the first time he ever saw her so vulnerable, and that made him want to look after her. He wanted to keep her safe.

"I apologise," she suddenly sniffled, withdrawing. She kept her gaze down so that he could not see her face. "I got your shirt all wet. I…I shouldn't have done that," she still sounded distraught, but she was already trying to pull away from him. He kept his arms tight around her, and she paused, unable to move. Her shoulders were still shaking, just the tiniest bit.

"You don't need to apologise," he told her, gently tilting her head up so that he could see her face. Her large green eyes were glistening, and her eyelashes were wet with tears. He could see them trembling as she lowered her gaze, trying to hide her face from him. He didn't let her turn away, his grip firm but careful. "I'm your fiancé. If you need my shoulder to cry on, then I'll offer it to you. I said this before, remember? Anything you need me to do, anything you want me to do for you, as long as it's within my means, I'll do it." His thumb brushed against her cheek, an unconscious gesture. "And what does one shirt mean to me if you are upset? A shirt is replaceable," he hesitated. "But you are not," he finally admitted.

She remained silent for a while. Finally, she nodded, and he could see the damp streaks her tears left on her cheeks. "Thank you," she whispered, and she sounded so sincere that his chest felt tight. Instinctively, he leant down to brush his lips against her forehead, a gesture meant to comfort and nothing else. There was no plan in mind this time, no intention of making her uncomfortable so he could trick her into telling him anything. He wanted to help her cheer up, and he didn't know what else he could do for her, so he just settled for that.

Even when she was upset, she was fragile and lovely, and he was afraid that while she was in this state, he might break her if he held her too tightly. It would have been the perfect time to question her while she was feeling so emotionally vulnerable, but he couldn't bring himself to do that. It would have been a despicable thing to do, and he didn't want to hurt or traumatise her. "Do you need to rest? I'll bring you back to our room so you can sleep if you want," he asked, still holding on to her. She pressed the back of her hand against her cheek, trying to rub away the tears, and then she shook her head, giving him a tremulous smile.

It was a smile that held a world of hurt. It made him wonder how long she had been carrying all that pain inside her. He wasn't the only one who had been suffering this entire time, he now realised. "I just need to be alone for a while," she told him. Normally he would have thought that she was trying to chase him away so she could plan something, but he did not think the same way this time. She needed to gather her thoughts. He understood that.

"Very well," he hesitated, still reluctant to leave her side. "At least let me escort you out of the ballroom first. And…" he searched his coat for the embroidered handkerchief he carried with him at all times. It was a memento from the days before he became the prince. The handkerchief had once belonged to Rin, but he knew it would be more useful with Cinderella now than with him. "Use this if you need to. I only ask that you be careful with it. It is precious to me."

She gently took hold of the handkerchief, running her fingers along the white cloth. She traced the butterfly embroidery on the corner of the handkerchief. "Did this belong to Rin?" she asked, her voice soft. He nodded, a lump in his throat, and she stared at it for a while longer before gripping it tightly in her hands. "Thank you. I truly appreciate what you're doing for me," the words came out slow and hesitant like she was uncertain of what to say.

"You're my fiancée," he said again, running his fingers through her hair. "And I care for you. The handkerchief would be of more use to you than to me," he paused. "If you find that you need anything else, you can look for me," he told her quietly. "I'll be in my study, but I will do anything I can to make you feel better. My work is not as important as your happiness."

"I hope I will not trouble you then," she pulled away from him, giving him a slightly wobbly curtsey. He felt a twinge of disappointment that the intimate moment was over, and they were back to being cordial and careful, reluctant to reveal too much information about themselves while trying their best to discover more about the other. But he told himself that this was for the best. He had to go back to his work anyway, and staying here would just use up more of his time.

They left the ballroom together, going their separate ways once they were outside. He turned towards his study, his feet automatically taking him to where he had to go, but his thoughts were occupied by sorrowful green eyes and that look of frightened vulnerability he had seen on Cinderella's face. He knew, just like her open laughter earlier, that this was not a sight which would leave him anytime soon. He swallowed, wondering why he was so affected by it.

She was getting inside his head. That couldn't possibly be a good thing, could it? He cared too much for a girl who wasn't supposed to be anything more than a way to pass the time. And he didn't know how he could remedy the situation or solve his dilemma. For the first time in three years, he wondered if he was remembering how to feel affection.


	29. Chapter 29

Miku traced her fingers over the delicate embroidery on the handkerchief. She had never seen the prince use it before, but the way he handed it to her so carefully, the way his gaze lingered on the small white square of cloth, made it obvious that it was important to him.

She knew little about his previous fiancée. This was only the second memento she ever saw of her, the first being the engagement ring the prince kept in his room. The handkerchief was a pretty, delicate little thing, and it made her wonder what Rin was like as a person. She wouldn't be surprised if Rin had been a fair, gentle maiden with a sweet laugh and slender hands. She couldn't imagine someone like herself carrying this handkerchief around.

Miku was too independent, too strong-headed to carry something so fragile and delicate. In her youth, she had always preferred to play outside in the gardens than endure her piano and embroidery lessons. The only thing even remotely ladylike she actually enjoyed doing was learning how to dance – that, she threw herself into with a frenzied passion. Anything else like crafts, stitching, music, languages, etiquette – everything else she utterly despised.

It made her realise just how different she must be compared to Romeo's dead beloved. Did that disappoint him? Or had he chosen her precisely because of how different she was from Rin, so that he wouldn't be reminded of his past every time he looked at her? She raised the handkerchief to her lips, breathing in – the cloth carried just the faintest hint of the prince's scent. It was slightly floral, but not feminine. Subtle, sweet but mysterious, it reminded her of the prince's own behaviour. Everything he said and did just now was confusing her.

She hadn't meant to cry while they were dancing. It was just that it had been such a _long_ time since she could really dance freely – at the ball, she had been too nervous and careful to enjoy herself – and when she suddenly remembered her parents, the carefree euphoria abruptly crashed, leaving her feeling hollow. She tried so hard not to think about it, but her father's face was always there in her memories, always haunting her in her nightmares.

Her mother she mourned, but at least she had finally grown accustomed to her loss. She had died when Miku was so young, after all. She attended her mother's funeral and saw her casket being lowered into the grave, though she was too young to understand anything at that point – but her father was a different case. No body was ever found, there was nothing left for her to grieve over, and worst of all, she couldn't help thinking that it was all her fault. If she hadn't been there in the cottage, her father wouldn't have tried to save her before seeking safety himself. He would have been able to escape the fire unscathed.

But because she was there, because she had been playing nearby when the fire broke out, because she had been so lost and confused in the smoke and flames that she couldn't find the exit on her own – because of all these reasons, her father sacrificed himself to push her to safety and died in the cottage. His body was never found, and she was never able to let go.

"Your Highness?" a familiar voice addressed her, full of concern, and she jumped, startled. "I did not mean to frighten you," Gumo added, stepping onto the balcony. He studied her, and she gave him a tremulous smile, dabbing at her damp eyes with Romeo's handkerchief. The butler's gaze landed on the handkerchief and his eyes widened when he recognised it. "The prince's handkerchief!" he actually sounded shocked. "I've never seen him without it…"

"He loaned it to me," she explained, hoping Gumo wouldn't think she stole it from Romeo or anything like that. The butler frowned, but nodded politely and reached for the empty plates on the table. "Gumo, sit with me for a while," she told him impulsively, and the butler glanced at her, looking surprised again. "Talk to me," she could hear her voice trembling.

"As you wish, Your Highness," with a grace not unlike the prince's, his butler drew out the chair opposite her and sat, placing his intertwined fingers on his lap. "My sister and I both hope that you are…feeling better, Your Highness," he began when she didn't say anything, still gripping the handkerchief tightly. It brought her some degree of comfort, though she couldn't explain why. "It is not because of anything the prince said to you, I hope?"

She laughed, unable to help herself. The butler's concern and his semi-accusatory tone as he brought up the prince touched her. When she first entered the palace, she did not expect that she would be shown this much concern. Though she had only been here for a mere two weeks, perhaps slightly more, the people here were kind, far kinder than her stepfamily ever was. Gumi and Gumo had fast become people she could easily converse with, and possibly they were even good friends, though Gumi's nagging still sometimes got on her nerves. And the king, despite being rarely around, always felt like an excellent father figure to her.

But most of all, the prince…she stilled, unsure how she felt about the prince now. Just two weeks ago she had been so certain that she would never feel anything for him because he was so sly and suspicious, and she knew that everything he said was part of some game or plan that she was not privy to. She knew she had to guard herself against him, she had to weave stories to fool him into thinking she was who she claimed to be. The last thing she could do was reveal her true identity to someone whose intentions were far from benign.

Yet, her thoughts and feelings were becoming more and more muddled. She was certain that he was a playfully cruel royal who toyed with her for the sake of entertainment, or that he was investigating her for some crime that the Hatsune family possibly committed in the past, which made her even more determined to keep her name a secret. But as the days went past, the more she began thinking that maybe he wasn't as bad as she made him out to be. He never asked her for her name again, not after she flatly refused him the first time, nor did he ask any other questions about her lineage. In fact, it seemed as though he had _accepted_ her story about being from Veracent. Nowadays, the questions he asked were always about herself. Her preferences, her hobbies, the things she wanted to do.

And his company, his questions, the gentle way he held her, especially after realising she had nightmares – it made her think that he actually cared about her, that he might really be fond of her. She didn't know if that was her just thinking too much about the situation. She didn't know if this was all part of his plan and in truth, he was still the manipulative person she had initially thought him to be. But she couldn't deny that she was…affected by him.

Her fingers tightened around the handkerchief. If he didn't care for her at all then surely, he wouldn't have lent her something so precious to him. Or maybe it was just a lie and this was just an ordinary handkerchief, and he was testing her to see how she would respond to his so-called affection? She couldn't be sure anymore. Even though the latter was still entirely possible, she _wanted_ to believe the former. She wanted to believe that he really cared.

"Your Highness?" she blinked, realising that Gumo was calling out to her. She shook her head slightly, looking at the butler, and he sighed, green eyes full of worry. At least she could be sure that Gumo's concern was legitimate, his and Gumi's both. They both felt like the elder siblings she never had. "Thank goodness. You were lost in your own world again, weren't you?" he smiled, though the worry didn't leave his gaze. "What were you thinking about?"

"Oh, nothing particularly important," she lied, not wanting to admit to Gumo that she had been feeling conflicted about her fiancé. Experience taught her that bringing up the prince often led to the Nakajima twins leaping to his defence, and she wasn't willing to listen to _yet_ another spiel about how Romeo actually, deep down, cared for her in his own way. She was already uncertain enough, and she didn't need to hear more about how he was actually a decent person who treated her differently from how he treated everyone else around him.

If she thought too long about it, she would never leave. She resolved to make her escape in the next three nights – she had already started making preparations, though her progress was slow due to her own uncertainty and the fact that Gumo always had his eye on her. It was difficult to slip away and pack things for her departure, but she had managed to find a spare cloth sack she could use to carry a few possessions, and she hid it in the guest room she took a bath in when she first came to the palace. Luckily, no one had noticed it yet.

Each day, she went back to that room with some clothes she borrowed from the servants, or bread that she managed to steal when the palace cooks weren't looking. It was much harder than she anticipated since the moment she appeared in the basement, where the palace servants worked, they would promptly usher her back upstairs, claiming that the princess had no need to sully herself in the kitchens. It was also difficult trying to get her hands on spare outfits and in the end, she only managed to take one set of clothing. She only obtained it because she took it from the clothesline while no one was looking.

She intended to sneak into Gumi's room, which was one floor below the prince's, on the first floor of the palace, and take one of her uniforms. Both Gumi and Gumo resided on that floor instead of with the rest of the servants in the basement, most probably due to their status as head servants. She was roughly the same size as Gumi, which meant her uniform would likely fit her well. The one she stole off the clothesline was slightly too big for her, so she hoped that at least her second outfit would be easier to move around in. She would do this tomorrow perhaps, while Gumi was settling arrangements for the upcoming ball.

"You've been losing yourself in your thoughts frequently the past few days, Your Highness," Gumo observed carefully. "Is there anything that troubles you? If so, you can just let any of us know, and we will do our best to solve your problem for you," he promised. Miku had no doubt that the butler meant what he said. Gumo was a very protective older brother figure, and she was certain that if she even _hinted_ that she had any problems, he'd go to extremes just to resolve them for her. "The prince would want you to be worry-free and happy."

She rubbed the handkerchief between her fingers, feeling uneasy about Gumo's words. It was because she could sense that it was the truth, or at least what the butler thought to be true. He genuinely trusted that Romeo cared about her. The worst thing was that she really was beginning to feel the same way. Did that mean she was falling for his tricks, if he was playing any? She really had to get away from here as soon as she could, before she ended up falling for Romeo and telling him anything he wanted to know. She swallowed.

"No. There's really nothing," she told Gumo, and the hard resolve in her voice seemed to surprise him. He inclined his head respectfully, and she took in a deep breath, wondering if she ought to ask him about the forest at night. He was already here, after all. And since he was one of the more important servants in the palace, perhaps he might know something. "Gumo, let me ask you something about the palace grounds. The royal forest…do you know why it is so special? Why is it reserved only for the royal family?" she decided to start with a more general question so that his suspicions would not be roused immediately.

The butler took a while to ponder her question. "The forest? I recall reading about it in the library before," he answered, and she remembered that the butler liked to spend his free time reading. He had so much time since the prince was ridiculously stubborn about doing everything on his own, which made her wonder how many books Gumo had read before. "It is considered the private property of the royal family, and it's always been that way. If you want to know why however, rumour has it that one of the old kings buried treasure in some part of the forest, and it was meant for his bloodline in case he was ever overthrown. His bloodline eventually died out and the throne went to another family, but before that they made sure to claim the forest as royal property, and it's been that way ever since. It's just an old tale though, so please don't enter the forest with the intention of finding the treasure."

His eyes glimmered with good humour. She smiled, influenced by the genuine enjoyment in his gaze. Gumo was the kind of person who seemed keen to share his knowledge, which she appreciated very much. He had told her things about the palace, such as the old wing with its possible secret passageway, and he was always willing to help her find books if she was reading up on something in the library. Sometimes, it felt like Gumo was the librarian rather than the actual librarian himself. "Is the treasure why there are so many guards in the forest?"

"Of course not, Your Highness. The treasure is just an old story – no one has ever managed to find it, and there are no maps or clues about its whereabouts. I doubt it truly exists," he shook his head. "But the guards are there so that poachers and hunters will not sneak into the grounds and steal the prey. The royal forest teems with wildlife since only the king and his family or guests can hunt there. It is the property of the royal family, and therefore must be guarded the same way the palace is," the butler explained. Miku nodded agreeably.

"But surely it is too much to have protection the entire day? I understand the need for such when it comes to the palace itself, since we all stay here – but the forest is simply a hunting ground. It may be the property of the royal family, but isn't assigning guards to protect it at night a waste of resources?" she wondered. Gumo hesitated, his gaze studying her carefully, and she hoped that her question had not set off any warning bells. Was she too interested?

"Well, anything stolen from the palace is a loss, regardless of whether it is from our treasury or from the forest," Gumo pointed out. "Everything must be guarded and protected at all times. But you need not fret about our guards – unlike the palace guards, there are much fewer of them in the forest, and they have hunting dogs to warn them if there are intruders. It is a very efficient system that makes use of less manpower," the butler frowned. "You are remarkably interested in the guards and what they do, Your Highness. Especially since you were wandering the barracks not too long ago. Do you have a particular concern regarding the palace security?" he asked. "I would be very pleased to address any of your worries."

"Oh no, I am not concerned!" she explained hurriedly, hoping not to arouse his suspicions. It might be too late, however – Gumo was watching her intently, and she couldn't read the expression on his face. On the bright side, she did find out more about the guards. Now she knew that they had dogs with them on their patrols. Maybe she could steal some raw meat from the kitchen on the night of her escape and use that to distract the hunting dogs? "It's just very interesting to me since my family did not have such protection in Veracent."

Gumo nodded. "That is only natural, Your Highness. It is strange to compare the security of a nobleman with that of a king," he pointed out. "Though in Ossyria, the Founding Four have many guardsmen of their own too. Perhaps that is a difference between the aristocrats here and in Veracent," he observed. She did not answer, afraid she would say the wrong thing.

Instead, she changed the topic. "The piece Gumi played was beautiful," she referred to the music played when she was dancing with Romeo in the ballroom earlier. Gumo smiled and nodded, acknowledging the praise on his sister's behalf. "Where did she learn how to play like that?" she asked, genuinely curious about this. Usually, only the nobility could afford to learn how to play any musical instruments. Gumi, however, was only a palace servant.

"Ah…my sister and I were raised under special circumstances," Gumo hesitated. "We served the royal family since we were young, even throughout the civil war that tore Ossyria apart all those years ago. The old king was a kindly man who treated all the servants like family. Gumi and I were foundlings left on the doorstep of the palace, and they took us in despite not knowing a single thing about us. The king changed my life," his voice was wistful.

Miku could remember him telling her all this before. She nodded, encouraging the butler to continue, and he cleared his throat. "When we were thirteen, the old king died, which led to that bitter struggle for the throne. Throughout those four years we were there, watching as the throne changed hands between greedy men who wanted only wealth and power, and cared not for the welfare of the people. But then His Majesty finally won the throne and Ossyria has prospered ever since. The first king encouraged my sister and I to each learn an instrument – her the piano, and I the violin. This stopped during the war, but His Majesty encouraged us to continue and gave us tutors. So, I will always be his faithful servant."

The king really was a kind, understanding man. She suddenly felt very fortunate to have him as part of her family, even if she had not actually married the prince yet…even if that was unlikely to ever happen. "He is generous," she remarked. Gumo nodded empathetically, a nostalgic smile on his face. "Is he responsible for you being able to read as well, then?"

Gumo shook his head. "No, my sister and I taught ourselves," his answer startled her, and she stared at him, wondering if he was being serious. His expression was stoic. "We used to take books out of the library and ask anyone who could remotely understand the alphabet to teach us how to pronounce each letter. From there, we slowly learnt how to read. It was not easy," he admitted, "but after a few years it became natural to us. And reading was a good way to utilise my spare time, so I do not regret the effort I put in at the beginning."

She nodded slowly, still amazed that he taught himself how to read. She only knew because she had her parents and her governesses. She never felt particularly strongly about reading – she neither loved nor hated it, and there were only so many books she could read before she put them aside, declaring that she was tired and she needed something else to do.

Gumo's dedication was therefore truly inspiring. She hoped she could push herself as hard as he did – the butler was clearly the sort who would never give up on a task halfway, and she wished she had the same kind of perseverance. "You're a very hard worker," she told him admiringly, and the butler glanced downwards, his face reddening slightly. He tried to wave her compliment away, but she insisted. "No, don't disparage yourself. I would never be able to commit so fully to anything, and you didn't even have a proper tutor to help you. The fact that you are not an aristocrat, yet you have all these skills…it's amazing, Gumo."

"I sincerely thank you for your praise, Your Highness," flustered, the butler went down on one knee, bowing his head, and she hastily bade him rise, a little panicky herself. She still wasn't used to being royalty and knowing that her words carried so much weight. "No one else has ever said anything like that to me before," he admitted softly.

She blinked. "Well, I shall begin doing so in that case," she decided. He stared at her, green eyes wide with surprise, and she beamed at him. "You deserve to be rewarded for all the hard work you've put in. "And don't be so worried every time I praise you. I would rather be treated as a friend than as someone superior," she added, a stubborn note to her words. Gumo looked like he wanted to protest, but she shook her head, cutting him off. "It makes me feel lonely, like I'm not someone who can ever have friends," she explained. "If that is my problem, would you help me settle it?" her smile returned as she asked the question.

The butler's lips curved upwards as well. "If you do see it as a problem, then naturally I will do everything I can to solve it for you, Your Highness," he promised. She nodded, laughing, her eyes warm. "It is nice to see you laughing at last," he added, this time more serious. "It feels like you have not genuinely laughed or smiled in a while, Your Highness. And we were all beginning to miss the delight on your face. You were always lost in your thoughts…"

She didn't realise that the servants were concerned for her, and she was touched by their worry. "I'm all right, Gumo. I really am," she insisted. He nodded, not pressing the issue any further. "You _can_ help me in one other way though, if you want to make me feel better."

He waited for her to continue, clearly prepared to take any request. She grinned. "It would be very nice if you just called me Cinderella instead of Your Highness all the time," she let this dangle in the air between them. A look of panic crossed Gumo's face, as though he couldn't even comprehend the idea of not referring to her by her title, and she laughed at the look on his face. "You can do this slowly, there is no rush, but it's rather strange to be called Your Highness all the time," she admitted. "I am simply not used to hearing it."

"If that is what you want…Cinderella," he spoke her name stiffly, and she resisted the urge to giggle. She was certain that would make him feel even more awkward. "I will do my best to remember this and not call you by your title anymore. In return, we all wish that you will enjoy your time in the palace and tell us if you have any worries. You really must," he insisted, the ever-present concern resurfacing in his green eyes. She nodded, trying to put him at ease, and he let out an audible sigh. "You may think I fret too much, but I truly wish for you to be happy here. You are the princess, and your word means more to us than you know."

"Thank you," she whispered. He smiled but said nothing. Miku glanced at the handkerchief in her hands, suddenly feeling confused. She was supposed to be making plans to leave, and the last thing she ought to do was to forge stronger friendships with the people here. She knew that, so why was she still doing something she knew she would eventually regret?

* * *

Len was clearing up his papers, getting ready to turn in for the night. He was in his actual study today – he usually preferred to do his work in his room, but since he didn't know if Cinderella wanted to rest or not, he'd rather not risk disturbing her in case she wanted to sleep in their room. He exhaled, stretching. Sitting here for so long was making him stiff.

"Are you tired?" he blinked when he heard her voice, soft and hesitant. He looked around and saw her watching him, dressed in her sleepwear already, her long teal hair loose and wavy. She was standing at the entrance, holding on to the door. "Gumo told me that you were still working and asked if I could extract you from your study since he had to help the palace servants settle a mess in the kitchen. I decided to look for you since I had time."

That sounded like Gumo. The Nakajima twins prioritised cleanliness over everything else, even Len. And a mess in the kitchen didn't sound like something either sibling would let go of easily. "I'm almost done," he answered. "I just need to organise these papers and get someone to deliver a few letters to the Council tomorrow. But I can arrange that in the morning," he changed his mind when he noticed her face fall. It was a very small difference in expression, her smile dimming just a little, but he was watching her closely enough to notice even that. "Are _you_ tired?" he rose from his chair, heading towards the study door.

"A little," she admitted. He reached her and spent a few seconds just studying her, trying to see if she was still upset from this afternoon. She stared back at him, those eyes wide and unblinking, and he was suddenly reminded of the way her eyelashes quivered when she was about to cry. He tried to push that memory out of his head. "Though I didn't do anything…"

"It's understandable that you're tired," he left it at that, careful not to say anything which might hurt her feelings or make her remember. "Come, let's retire for the night," he held out his hand and she took it, her hand dainty and delicate in his own. He led her back to their room and she averted her gaze when he changed into his sleepwear. When he was done, she opened her mouth, as though she wanted to say something, but she hesitated and promptly pressed her lips together again. "Are you feeling well?" he asked instead.

He was tired of continuously asking her if she was fine, but he didn't know what else he could say. Following what happened this afternoon, he just really, _really_ wanted to make sure that she was all right, but he was afraid that asking too many questions would cause her to shut him out again. She nodded. "Thank you for your concern," she murmured. "I am grateful for the handkerchief, it did help a lot," she added. "I washed it and left it to dry on a clothesline, so I'll have it returned by tomorrow morning," she promised. He blinked.

"There's no rush," he told her. "And when you said you washed it…" he frowned. "Did you mean that you actually washed it yourself?" he questioned, surprised that she might do such a thing. After all, she was an aristocrat. Laundry was not something noble ladies did.

She nodded, and he didn't know what to say. "I thought it was the least I could do. I did not wish to trouble the palace servants, and since I was the one who used your handkerchief, I thought that I should clean it for you as well. I would have washed your shirt for you too but no one would allow me to do such a thing," she admitted, and there was a lovely smile on her face. It took his breath away, and he couldn't help but feel moved.

"You didn't need to do that," he told her, and he meant every word he said. She bit her lip, clearly wondering if she ought to argue, and he reached out for her hands, playing with her fingers. "I'd do anything to make you happy. It's only right since I'm your husband-to-be," her fingers intertwined with his, and he didn't know if he ought to be pleased or not that her fingers felt like they were meant to fill the gaps between his own. _Don't forget about Rin_ , a voice in the back of his head reminded him, and he abruptly dropped her hands like he had been burnt. That's right. What was he even thinking? He shouldn't be so attached to her.

"Well, you don't need to go through all that trouble either," Cinderella hadn't appeared to notice his sudden change in behaviour, which he was grateful for. He was confused about his feelings, the conflict between what he yearned for and what he knew to be wrong. He couldn't break his promise to himself and to Rin. "That handkerchief meant a lot to you. You didn't need to give it to me. The words you said were more than enough."

She must be referring to the words of comfort he gave her earlier. He hadn't thought of those words as particularly useful – they were empty, vague phrases which didn't really mean anything – but here Cinderella was, telling him that they were good enough for her. "Well, if that was…useful for you," he muttered, genuinely surprised by her gratefulness. She just smiled back at him, a tiny little smile, and he felt his chest tighten once more at the look on her face.

He needed time away from her. He needed to gather his thoughts and really, _really_ think about what he wanted from this engagement. He knew that it wasn't just about finding out her background and her identity anymore. He cared too much to remain so distant. "Let's get some rest for tomorrow," she changed the topic, turning around and heading for the bed. Dazedly, he followed suit, and when he wrapped his arms around her waist, it was an action that required no conscious thought – by now, it felt as natural as breathing.

She didn't protest either. Her back was facing him as always, but he didn't feel her stiffen up the way she normally did, nor did she try to push him away from her. He remembered what it was like a few nights ago and was unable to help the sigh that passed through his lips. He barely got any sleep, and he could still remember the soft pink of her cheeks, courtesy of the wine she drank. She looked so vulnerable, as though she needed his protection, and all he wanted to do was to hold her tightly and let his fingers memorise the shape of her face.

Len didn't want to fool himself. He wasn't stupid, and he knew these feelings for Cinderella weren't something he could simply pretend didn't exist. But at the same time, he couldn't just throw aside his promises and find happiness with someone new. He had no right to be happy in love, and Rin deserved more to her memory. He wondered if he ought to remove his arms from around Cinderella's waist, but as he was thinking, she turned over to look at him. He could just barely make out the features of her face. Her green eyes were dark.

"When your fiancée passed away, did you ever think you would find someone again in the future? Be it a year later, or five years, or even decades later. Would you have?" she asked, curious. It was a good question. No one had asked him that before – no one else dared.

"I thought not," he answered honestly. "And I wouldn't have if my father had not…forced me to find a companion," he met her gaze and found that her expression was unreadable. "I always thought that I deserved to be alone because of my negligence. I should have tried to save her. And it always made me feel like her death was my fault. Some might say that she would not want me to suffer, not when she loved me, but I think of this as retribution for all the mistakes I've made," he admitted, and it was the first time he said this out loud.

She reached out to cup his face, her fingers lingering against his skin. When she spoke, her voice sympathetic. Not pitying, not judgemental, but full of understanding. "I know what it feels like to blame yourself for someone else's death," and she said nothing else. Her skin was soft and warm, and impulsively he let go of her waist, one hand reaching up to hold her hand against his cheek. He felt her shift just a tiny bit closer to him, and his breath caught.

"Then perhaps you and I are more similar than we initially thought," he didn't want to ask more. It would have ruined the mood. Cinderella nodded, and slowly he released her hand, bringing his down to her long, silken hair. His fingers ran through the teal locks, almost black in the darkness, and he thought that she closed her eyes. "If we had met under another set of circumstances, do you think we would have gotten along better?" he wondered aloud.

She laughed. "I cannot imagine what sort of circumstances we would require for us to have enjoyed each other's company from the very beginning," if he was not mistaken, she was teasing him. He swallowed. "You and I are very different, Prince Romeo. But that does not mean that I do not…enjoy finding out more about you. You are not exactly the self-centred, pampered prince I might have assumed you were," she admitted, and her voice was quiet.

"I? Pampered? That is exceedingly far from the truth," he retorted. She laughed again, a soft sound, and he closed his eyes when he felt her breath wash delicately against his skin. She was so close to him. She hardly ever came so close of her own accord, and he was finding it difficult to think straight. "You told me that we need an exchange – we give some, we take some. Since I lent you that handkerchief, perhaps you could give me something in return?"

He half-expected her to turn away and ignore him, but instead, she hummed thoughtfully. She did not seem unreceptive to his suggestion. "What do you want then?" she asked. He needed a few seconds to think over it – the dark room, her soft voice, her warmth and her scent, it was all combining to make him feel rather dazed. He didn't know what he wanted.

"I want you," the words slipped out thoughtlessly. "I want to find out who you are. I know so little about you that sometimes, it feels like a sweet dream – like I'll wake up one day and you're gone and I can't be sure if you even existed or not. Tell me something that I can use as evidence that you're really here, that you're not just a figment of my imagination."

His words came out more urgently than he expected. She hesitated, and her hand dropped from his cheek, moving down to his shoulder. His other hand, the one that was still on her waist, tightened around her just in case she decided to turn away. He didn't want her to go.

"I get nightmares," she finally admitted. But he had always known that, so he waited for to say more. "About my father, burning to death because he saved me from the same fate. I always think that it's my fault, because if I hadn't been there he may have been able to save himself. And I never wanted to tell you because I was afraid you'd find a way to use it against me, which was why I kept pretending that he was still alive. You won't…you won't use that information to hurt me, would you?" she sounded desperate, her gaze searching his face.

"No," he told her firmly, catching her chin in his hand, making sure she couldn't look away. "I never would," he promised, leaning down to brush his lips gently against her forehead. She didn't move away. "I'm glad that you trust me enough to tell me this. You know I have nightmares as well, about my fiancée…so why would I ever talk about your demons? We both understand pain, and there's no need for us to hurt each other. We suffer enough on our own," he explained, part of him amazed that she even told him anything like this.

Somehow, he could feel that it was the truth. Perhaps it was the fear in her voice, the way her eyes roamed his face nervously, trying to see how he would react to what she said. "I am glad that you feel that way then," she whispered, the tension leaving her shoulders. "I really am glad. You don't know how that makes me feel…" she glanced up, meeting his gaze again. "I'm tired. Perhaps this is enough for the night. Good night, Romeo," she ended the conversation there, but she didn't turn away. Instead, she just closed her eyes, still facing him, and he couldn't help but pull her closer. She was becoming so important to him.

"Good night," he whispered back, and he tried to shut his eyes and sleep. But her words ran around his head, keeping him up, and he wondered if, just like that fateful night she drank wine, he'd be unable to rest, too distracted by thoughts of her to slip into his dreams.


	30. Chapter 30

Two days passed by in a flash, and then it was the day of her escape. She tried to go about her business as though nothing had changed, though she was constantly uneasy, afraid that someone would look at her and figure out her plan. Gumo seemed to suspect something…

The butler spent the entire day with her today, and it almost seemed like he was afraid of leaving her on her own. She hoped she wasn't overthinking things. The prince was not in his study today – he claimed he was tired of working so much and was now stretching his legs in the rose gardens. She looked down at the gardens, the balcony affording her a bird's eye view of the palace grounds. She could spot his golden blond hair among the greenery.

He had asked if she wanted to join him on his stroll, but she declined. She didn't want to be around the prince any more than was necessary, afraid that spending more time with him would make her change her mind about her plans tonight. She did not consider him to be the same nuisance as she did in the beginning, and she could tell that he was softening towards her as well. This felt like a genuine relationship now, and that…frightened her.

Of course, they were still far from being in love. They both knew far too little. But they were slowly opening up, slowing finding out more and more about each other. That could only be the first step to understanding, then subsequently concern and affection. She did not want to go down that route. She still yearned to see the world, and she would eventually return to recover her inheritance, hopefully after her stepmother passed away so that there would be no one who could legally counter her claim. That was her plan from the very start, and she didn't want to change it just because she was beginning to grow fond of the prince.

She didn't understand why her feelings were changing this way. Simply thinking about her emotions confused her. She had never been in love, not in this romantic sense, but in her fantasies, she always assumed that it would be a slow process between two people who felt an instantaneous connection between each other. That was what her mother used to say – that she saw her father once at a charity gala and instantly fell in love with him. Miku was only a child then, and she forgot many things, but this story had never left her memory.

The prince was hardly someone who fit that description. She didn't think there was _any_ sort of spark between them unless those sparks signalled the beginnings of an argument. She vividly remembered feeling so irritated by him when she first came to live in the palace, and she dreaded his company because she knew she'd have to field his questions and come up with stories on the spot about her past and her genealogy. When had that changed? There was no specific instance she could pinpoint to explain why her feelings were now different.

Maybe it was just because he genuinely seemed to care. Maybe Gumo and Gumi's constant support for their master had stuck in her head. Maybe she was just more susceptible than she thought to physical touch and intimacy. Whatever the reason, just thinking of leaving the palace now made her feel a little uncomfortable. She didn't _want_ to escape, at least not as much as she used to. In fact, she thought she rather enjoyed her stay here. She had made friends, something she hadn't done in six years. And the people here clearly cared for her.

Would she be able to find such companionship during her travels? She didn't know. It was not something she had thought about in her earlier days, when the only thing she desired was to get away from the prince and strike out on her own, seeking her fortune. Back then, the only thing she craved was freedom and independence. But all these thoughts surfaced in her mind now, making her hesitate, making her uncertain. Would she be lonely? Would she have to struggle to survive on her own, unable to rely on anyone while she travelled all around the world? And how would Gumo and Gumi feel about her suddenly disappearing?

How would the prince feel…? That was the thought which worried her the most. By now, she was aware of the prince's fears. He was afraid of being left alone by her after his first fiancée and beloved died during her travels. He didn't want her to go because he was afraid, either rationally or irrationally, that she would suffer the same fate. While she _did_ think that he was worrying too much, she could understand why he would feel that way. But he simply did not want to discuss this matter, and it left her no choice but to slip away on her own.

The prince had stopped walking in the rose gardens, and he was now leaning towards one of the sprawling bushes, looking at a rose. He lowered his head, inhaling the sweet scent of the heavy scarlet blooms, before he suddenly looked up towards the balcony, meeting her gaze. She blinked, startled by the unexpected eye contact, and his lips curved up into a noticeable smile. He reached out, plucking a rose from the bush, before raising the lovely flower to his lips and then holding it up in her direction. She felt her face warm slightly at the gesture.

"Do you really not wish to walk with him? It seems like His Highness wants your company," Gumo, who had been sitting quietly beside her the whole time, suddenly spoke up. Miku turned towards the butler, and there was an encouraging smile on his face. She hesitated, uncertain – she would really rather avoid Romeo because she didn't know if talking to him now, on the day of her escape, would make her change her mind later. But Gumo's observation wasn't inaccurate either. Even Miku could tell that Romeo wanted her in the gardens with him.

"I am quite tired…" she tried to make up an excuse. The butler just sighed, rising from his chair and clearing the teacups. He didn't say a word, but she could sense his disappointment and she felt like she had let him down somehow. "Oh, very well. Maybe just for a while," she shook her head, and Gumo glanced at her, his smile returning to his face. "You are trying very hard to make us spend time with each other, Gumo. Do you have some scheme in mind?"

She said this teasingly but even then, a faint look of panic crossed his face – when she raised a hand to her mouth, hiding her giggle, he realised that she was not being serious and abruptly relaxed, shaking his head at her. "Cinderella, you should not joke about things like these," he nagged, though there was amusement in his voice. "Scheming and plotting are tantamount to treason. And I would never do anything to harm either you or the prince."

"Oh, I know that Gumo," she waved his concerns away. "But it amuses me to see the way you react to everything I say," she continued to tease him, and the butler didn't bother to respond this time, just placing everything back on the trolley and wheeling it out of the balcony. Miku looked down at the rose gardens again – Romeo had moved on from where he was earlier, and he was now standing at the white marble fountain in the centre of the garden. From where she sat, she was unable to see the look on his face.

If she spent just a short amount of time near the prince, surely that wouldn't change her mind. What could a few minutes do? With that in mind, she rose from her chair, glancing at the gardens once more before she left the balcony. The prince was still at the fountain, almost as though he was waiting for her there. She took in a deep breath and went down to meet him – she would pretend that nothing was wrong, and then tonight she could finally leave.

* * *

The prince was studying the marble fountain when she approached him. The fountain was refreshingly cooling – they were standing close enough to feel water droplets on their skin. "It _is_ a work of art, isn't it?" he remarked, not even turning to acknowledge her. "It's been around for as long as the palace itself – or that is what the stories say. Whether or not that's true, I don't know. If it were true, it would require a great deal of maintenance, don't you think so?"

"Perhaps," Miku did not say much since she knew little about fountains. The prince looked back at the sound of her voice, giving her a breezy smile. His golden blond hair fell in loose tendrils around his face today – his ponytail was tied close to the nape of his neck, and it made him look more relaxed and open than usual. "Are you still taking a break from your work?" she changed the topic, wondering why he felt the need to do so.

The prince was, for lack of a better word, a workaholic. It was the first time in a long while that she saw him doing something that was not work-related. Honestly, she would not be surprised if Romeo could somehow turn this stroll around the gardens into something that was related to royal affairs. Perhaps that was why he was talking about the fountain now?

"Yes. If I look through just one more proposal from the Council, I will lose my mind," he yawned, running his fingers through his hair. "And you, Cinderella? Just sitting out on the balcony as always?" his tone was light and playful. He seemed remarkably carefree, again something she hadn't seen in a while. "It would be nice if you helped me with my work sometimes, you know."

"Well, I don't know anything about what you're doing," she pointed out. "I'd be more of a hindrance than of any real assistance," she admitted, and the prince tilted his head, his gaze a little more serious now. She looked away from him, staring at the sprawling rose bushes all around them. The rose gardens were always beautiful, no matter the time of day. In the daytime, as it was now, it was a magnificent sight to behold – huge swathes of scarlet roses reaching up towards the sky, graceful vines wrapping around marble pillars, tiny rosebuds curled tightly against emerald leaves. But in the night-time, the gardens were…enchanting. There was something about the moonlight which made the roses look almost seductive.

The first time she ever saw the rose gardens was at night. She still remembered it. It was on the first night of the ball; the prince took her away from all the activities and admitted to her that he was not looking for a fiancée. He told her that he only wanted a companion and asked if she was willing to take up that position. And look where they were now. Fiancé and fiancée, or at least that appeared to be the case. She felt a little uneasy at the thought, glancing down at the engagement ring on her finger. The heavy, ostentatious piece of jewellery winked back up at her. She _really_ didn't like this ring. If she had to choose one, she'd rather have Rin's ring…

But she did not want it. Rin's ring was simple and elegant, and it was also something that mattered too much to the prince. She could never bring herself to ask for it, not when she knew what it meant to Romeo. And what did she care for a ring anyway? It wasn't like they were in love. They weren't even going to get married. "Your presence alone is enough to tide me through the day," the prince told her. His voice was filled with good humour.

"And will I not be a distraction?" she raised an eyebrow, smiling despite herself. In the past, she never would have imagined herself finding entertainment in the things the prince said. He really was different now – or perhaps she was the one who changed? He did not respond right away – instead, he reached out for her hands, her fingers slipping between his. Romeo stared at her, the smile slowly fading from his face. She wondered what he was thinking.

"You may be the greatest distraction in the world, but I will still want you with me," he told her, and he sounded so earnest that she didn't know how to respond. She just blinked, her lips parting slightly in astonishment – he sounded so heartfelt. Did he really mean it? She still couldn't be sure if everything he told her was truthful, but…for once, she really thought that he might be genuine. There was no trace of guile in those blue eyes. He was a good actor, but surely even the prince would not be able to fake such…such honesty.

"Do you really care about me?" she abruptly asked. She just needed to get that out of the way. It was tiring, always being unsure how he felt, always wondering if he was actually telling her the truth. He looked almost affronted by her question, but as she continued to stare at him, unwilling to back down without a response, his expression softened.

"How could I not?" he answered simply. "You are the maiden I am to marry. I cannot help but care for you, even if it was not my intention to do so in the beginning," he hesitated. "I did not tell you this before. I was unsure if I could – but when I first went to the Hatsune manor, your aunt, the Dowager Duchess Hatsune, pleaded with me to take you away and save you from your suffering. Her words stuck with me. I saw what you had to endure, and it made me feel like…like I _had_ to look after you, somehow. Like it was my responsibility to do so."

Miku's eyes widened. Her stepmother told the prince to save her? She almost couldn't believe her ears, but she didn't think the prince was lying about _this_. Why would he? He had no reason to. She looked away from him, instinctively withdrawing – her hands slipped out of his grasp as she recoiled in shock. It couldn't be true. Her stepmother had always been an ambivalent woman – passive and quiet while her daughters abused her and treated her like a slave. Yet she was the one who apparently asked the prince to rescue her?

She felt warm hands stroking her hair, and she gasped, looking back at the prince – he had his head tipped to one side, studying her intently while his fingers slid through her long teal hair. "You seem shocked," he observed. "You told me previously that your cousins were jealous of you. And your aunt was too frail to keep them in check. But surely, she must have cared for you even while she was sickly?"

If only the prince knew the truth about her circumstances. As it was, she forced a smile upon her face and nodded weakly, agreeing with whatever he said. "Yes, I suppose she must have cared, though perhaps she did not dare to say anything…" her tongue felt heavy. The lies were weighing her down, and she was _tired_. She knew there was no way that woman _really_ cared. If she had, then why didn't she do or say anything to help her situation? Maybe she only wanted to present herself in a favourable light in front of the prince. Maybe it was all part of some plan to retain her grip on the Hatsune inheritance even after her passing, so she could then give her titles and wealth to her undeserving daughters. Miku didn't know.

She couldn't fully identify the prince's expression. It looked almost like concern, but at the same time, it felt like more. Anger, perhaps? Indignation? She wasn't sure. But she didn't have the chance to think too much about it, because the next moment the prince drew her close, his arms wrapping tightly around her. She gasped, startled by the unexpected gesture. Her face was pressed against his chest, and she could smell the same subtle, floral scent as what she smelled on Rin's handkerchief. It was a familiar, comforting fragrance. She relaxed.

"I will not ask you about your family or your circumstances. Not because I know you won't tell me – though that is partially true – but more because I don't _care_ ," he muttered, and she could hear his voice above her head. "It's your personal matter, and I believe that if you want to tell me about it, you will. Your circumstances are not important to me. I care about you, not your history or your family background. _You_ are the one who matters to me."

She didn't know what to say. She could hear his heart beating, and it was faster than she thought it would be. Her heart was racing too. Being in his arms like this was…comforting. His embrace was warm and tight, and even if she didn't want to admit this, she felt safe. Knowing that he was holding her made her feel _protected_. And it was a nice feeling. It was nice to not have to be strong all the time. It was nice to be held, and it was nice to hear him being so understanding. She was genuinely touched by his sincerity. It was a surprise when he said that he wasn't going to ask her anything about her history. And she definitely hadn't expected him to tell her that he cared about her, that she was actually important to him.

The more time she spent around Romeo, the less she thought that he was just pretending to be a concerned fiancé. She didn't know if she could rely on her intuition, but her instincts were telling her that he was not acting. "Thank you," she finally whispered, closing her eyes and resting her cheek against him. "The past few days, you've been very understanding, and I – I just want to let you know that I am sincerely grateful for everything you've said to me."

She heard him chuckle. "If I am your fiancé and I do not try to be understanding, then what kind of fiancé would I be?" he asked. There was a teasing lilt to his voice, and she withdrew from him, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. She hadn't realised, but her own arms were around his waist. When had she returned the hug? She couldn't be certain. Looking at him now was making her hesitate. How would he feel when she ran away from him tonight?

"What if you wake up one day and realise that all this…that everything, including me, was just a dream?" she asked. She remembered him confiding that he feared precisely that – he was afraid of waking up and realising that she never truly existed. She responded by telling him one of her deepest, darkest secrets – that her nightmares were about her father burning to death in a fire, and it was entirely her fault. Exposing this secret made her feel incredibly vulnerable, but he promised not to use it against her and for once, she trusted his word.

His eyes darkened at the question. "Wake up to realise that _you_ are a dream?" he echoed. She nodded wordlessly, awaiting his response, and she felt his grip on her tighten a little. "I don't know," he answered slowly, shaking his head. "To me, it would be like…losing Rin all over again," pain seeped into his expression, "but worse. A hundred times worse. At least Rin existed. At least she was real and what I felt for her, what I felt when she died – all that was real. If you were just a dream, if you were never anything more than a mere figment of my imagination…then what about my feelings now? Would they all just be part of my imagination as well then?"

She didn't expect to see such conflict in his eyes. She felt guilty about making him consider this possibility – but it was something he would have to face very soon because she would leave him tonight. She couldn't change her mind now, not when she had been planning her escape for so long. She wouldn't let herself deviate from her course, not even if Romeo watched her mournfully with a gaze that seemed almost lost. Her resolve wavered, but she couldn't change her mind. It was too late for that, even if she knew she would hurt him.

"Don't feel that way. You won't ever have to feel that way because I _am_ real. I'm not just a dream," she promised him, a bittersweet lie. She was real, but she wouldn't be able to stay. Romeo relaxed slightly, still holding on to her, and she leant her head against his chest once more, using this chance to hide her face. She was afraid that if she looked at him now, her expression would give it all away – her plans, her dreams, her regrets. Fate was strange. Here they were, two people who shared the same sense of guilt, and she wasn't able to stay.

What were the chances of meeting someone who was as pained over another's death as she was? And what were the chances that she would end up caring about him? She really wished she could abandon her dreams and stay, but that wasn't who she was. She knew she would be miserable if she just stayed the rest of her life in the palace, unable to do what she wanted to do, unable to fly out of an ornate, luxurious prison. Being a princess, being part of the royal family was like an invisible chain. She had been locked away for a third of her life, and now she wanted to break free. Even if she'd end up hurting the prince in the process.

Yet she knew that she couldn't just leave without ever saying anything. He deserved better than that – he at least deserved an explanation of her goals and her motives. She needed him to know that it _wasn't_ his fault because the last thing she wanted was for him to blame himself for her disappearance, the same way he blamed himself for Rin's death. He was in so much pain. Miku didn't want to add to his pain, and an explanation was the only way she knew to alleviate his suffering. But how could she explain anything when she was going to leave?

Maybe she could write a letter. She paused, her arms tightening a little around the prince's waist – in fact, that sounded like a good idea. A letter detailing every reason, every motive she had for running away from the palace. A letter that would make it clear that it was not his fault, that she would have done the same thing no matter where she was or who she was with. A letter hoping that he would one day recover and find someone else to love.

It sounded like a good plan, but her chest felt a little tight at the thought of writing such a heartfelt explanation. She didn't know what she _could_ write, but she owed him this much. And, as they parted from each other and he smiled brightly, knowing absolutely nothing about what was to come – her heart ached, but she tried to push the feeling aside. She had to do this.

* * *

She took in a deep breath, drawing her cloak tightly around herself. The palace was dark, but there was still activity – the servants slept much later than her and Romeo after all, and she had to be careful not to be spotted by anyone. Thankfully, the servants who worked late at night were fewer in number than during the day, so it was not that difficult to move around.

Miku had planned meticulously for this night. Her cloth sack was ready for her in the guest room. She spent the rest of the day in the library, penning a letter for her fiancé – she then slipped it onto his desk, right on top of his other papers, addressing the envelope to him. She knew he would see it when he woke up. He slept earlier than her tonight – when he asked her to come to bed, she said she was not yet sleepy and would read for a while longer before she joined him. He did not protest, and by the time she slipped under the covers, he was already fast asleep. That was how she managed to leave the bed so easily tonight.

Usually, his arms would be wrapped so tightly around her waist that she would not be able to break free. Everything was going smoothly for her, and she ought to celebrate that, but there was a hollow feeling in her stomach. She didn't want to leave as badly as she did in the beginning, but she refused to change her mind. Miku did not consider herself a quitter.

She looked around carefully, her cloth sack thrown over her shoulder. She was wearing a servant's uniform that had once hung in Gumi's closet. True to her assumption, Gumi's clothes fit her well, and the servant's uniform was surprisingly comfortable. The white, long-sleeved blouse and knee-length black skirt were certainly much easier to move around in than her usual gowns, at any rate. She ducked behind the wall when she spotted a servant carrying a lamp at the other end of the corridor, extinguishing the lights along the passageway.

The palace was rather creepy at night. She had forgotten just how eerie it was when it was not bustling with activity. It had been a while since she last came out so late. She swallowed, smoothing down her skirt and darting to the stairs – she just had to make it to the back door and exit the palace grounds without being caught. For that, she'd have to avoid the guards on patrol, but that should not be too challenging. The gate was not difficult to unlock, and once she got past that hurdle, she would be in the forest. She'd stand a chance at escaping!

Nodding firmly to herself, she began making her way downstairs. She was cautious, always pausing whenever she saw a moving shadow or anything that seemed out of the ordinary. Her footsteps were quiet and hesitant, and she was exceedingly careful not to make any sound. The thick carpet helped greatly with that, muffling whatever noise she might make. The servants were all going about their own business, and since there were so few of them at this late hour, she had little trouble staying unseen. Finally, she made it to the right door and carefully edged it open, thankful when the hinges did not creak. Then she closed the door.

She shivered. It was chilly outside tonight, and Gumi's clothing clearly was not meant to keep her warm. She looked across the palace grounds, trying to gauge how quickly she would have to move to not get caught out in the open. The moon was hidden by clouds, which helped her since she could stick to the shadows, but she was also afraid that she would not be able to see a thing once she got to the forest. But that was something she could think about when she finally reached that point. First, she'd have to make it past the gardens, past the stables, past the racing track, all the way to the gate that led to the forest beyond.

She began her journey, looking around every so often to ensure that no one would spot her. Luck truly was on her side tonight, for she managed to get all the way to the stables without once seeing a single guard. She paused inside the stables, wrinkling her nose slightly at the smell of hay and horses – she still disliked horses, and this was one part of the palace which she rarely visited. But tonight, she was grateful that it was situated here, halfway between the palace and the trees beyond – it provided a good place for her to hide and wait.

She glanced inside the stables. Dark shapes moved around within, restless horses which had been disturbed by the presence of an intruder. She spotted a familiar white mare nearby, its head turned in her direction, and recognised it to be Frost, Romeo's mare. She gnawed her lip anxiously – she was intimidated by that horse, which seemed to view her as an annoying pest. But Frost continued staring at her, whinnying and shaking its head, and that made her wonder if the mare actually wanted her to come closer. Looking around again, she figured that she could spare a few minutes, so she hesitantly walked towards the waiting horse.

The mare snorted as Miku approached. Miku suddenly realised that it must have been a while since the horse last saw its owner – Romeo had been so busy with work the past few days that he had not left the palace at all. The last time she remembered the prince riding his mare was when he brought her to Cul for new dresses. It felt like such a long time ago.

"You miss him, don't you?" Miku whispered, wondering if the horse could understand. Frost shook its head, laying its ears back. She felt a sudden rush of sympathy for the animal. "He's so busy nowadays that he doesn't have time for anyone or anything, not even me," she added. Part of her realised that she was talking to a _horse_ , but Frost was Romeo's mare and, for some reason, it felt like she was talking to the prince himself rather than just to his horse.

Frost whinnied, almost as though it could understand what she was saying. She exhaled. "If only I didn't have to leave…" she murmured sadly. Frost lowered its head, and she blinked – the horse's head remained bowed towards her, and hesitantly, she reached out to stroke its mane. The mare's eyes closed, and Miku realised that the horse was enjoying being petted – she wound her fingers through the white mane, surprised to find that she didn't mind it _too_ much. She had not suddenly become a horse lover, but this experience wasn't too bad.

She would probably never get over her fear of horses entirely, not after what she saw in her youth, but Frost might be an exception solely because Frost belonged to Romeo, and Romeo was…someone who would never hurt her. It took her such a long time to realise this, and by the time she was willing to admit that to herself, she had to leave him behind. A single hot tear trickled down her cheek, and she hastily rubbed her eyes – this was no time for crying. Her resolve could not afford to waver now. "I have to go now. Goodbye," she told the mare, turning around resolutely and making her way out. She could hear Frost moving around agitatedly within the stable, but she didn't allow herself to look back. She _had_ to move on.

The forest was only a little further past the stable, and she continued in that direction, glad that there were no guards patrolling this part of the palace grounds. The whole place was dark, the moon covered by clouds. Glancing around once more, she fiddled with the lock on the gate, holding her breath as she struggled with the hinge – moments later, the heavy bolt moved and she exhaled, quickly going through the gate and shutting it behind her. And now, she was out of the palace grounds. The trees grew all the way up to the gate, and the forest threatened to swallow her. She was afraid, but she took a careful step into the darkness.

The leaves and twigs rustled underneath her feet. There was movement all around her, the nocturnal animals moving about, waking for the night. She hoped that there were no wolves in the forest – maybe she should have asked what kind of animals made the forest their home. But it was too late for that now. She looked around nervously, but she couldn't see anything. It was extremely dark in here, and she held her hands out, trying to go forth without tripping. She could hear crickets chirping, which calmed her down a little, but she was still afraid. If only there was some moonlight so she could see – but the moon was hidden tonight.

She wondered if there were any guards nearby. There were not many, or so Gumo claimed, so she hoped she wouldn't have any difficulties evading them. Her eyes were slowly growing accustomed to the darkness, and she was beginning to make out faint silhouettes of trees and other shapes. She decided to move on, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention. Though she had no idea where she was going, she decided to just choose one direction and stick to it – if she kept on walking, she ought to eventually reach the edge of the forest.

Miku was shivering a little. The chill of the night air seeped through her thin cloak – she had no idea whose cloak this was, but she saw it hanging on the clothesline yesterday evening and thought it might be useful for her journey. But it was not very good for warmth. She rubbed her hands along her arms, her teeth chattering slightly. If she kept moving, maybe she would warm up after a while. She sped up a little, picking her way through the trees.

Once in a while, she heard something rustle and she would pause, her heart in her throat. Usually, nothing ever came out of these instances, but once or twice she thought she heard a growl. Whenever that happened, she would cautiously move forward, hurrying away as quickly as she could once she felt slightly safer. Her heart was pounding, and she could hear it in her ears. This was beginning to seem like a very bad idea; maybe she should have just searched the old wing until she found that secret passageway Gumo was talking about. But she had searched for a while and nothing ever came out of it. This solution seemed more practical.

As she thought to herself, she felt her foot step on something. There was a loud, audible crack as she broke a branch, and she froze, hoping that she hadn't unwittingly attracted the attention of some animal. Once again, she heard a quiet growl, and she swallowed, edging away from the source of the sound. It sounded like it was coming from her left. The growl grew louder and she whipped around, terrified – the possibility of getting hurt or even worse, _dying_ , suddenly felt very real. She knew then that she had to get away from here.

Deciding to ignore caution, she began to run, dashing into the trees in an attempt to escape whatever had been following her this whole time. She heard the growls behind her, hot on her heels, joined by a crescendo of howls and barks – she suddenly remembered what else Gumo had said about the guards in the forest. They had hunting dogs to warn them if there were any intruders. Those dogs must have sniffed her out! She panicked, wondering if she had anything that could deal with the dogs before she realised she had forgotten to go to the kitchen and steal some raw meat. There was nothing in her sack which she could use.

"Intruder!" she heard faint shouts coming from behind. Terror seized her and she forced herself to run faster, crashing through the trees. The hunting dogs were right behind her, barking and howling away – all attempts at being discreet had been abandoned, and it just turned into a hunt. She thought that she now knew what it felt like to be prey, and it made her hate the sport even more. She imagined that she could feel hot breath on the back of her legs, sharp canines snapping at her feet, rolling eyes and lolling tongues. She was not the princess here – she was just another human, another intruder. She was their prey.

The barking was getting closer. She wanted to stop and breathe, but she couldn't – she pressed on, her lungs burning for air. At some point, she must have lost her sack because she was no longer carrying it but for now, she couldn't care. She just wanted to get out of her situation alive and well. Just as she thought this, her foot caught on something – she didn't know what, maybe it was a rock or an exposed tree root – and she fell over, letting out a cry of pain. Her mind despaired as she went down, knowing that she would never escape the dogs now – but that despair turned into shock and panic as she began to slide down a slope, her descent fast and uncontrollable. The howls faded as she continued going down, unable to see where she was going – but she was thankful that she had escaped the dogs.

That same relief was quickly replaced by horror as she felt something cold enveloping her – suddenly she was thrown out into cold water, and she began to scream, flailing her arms and legs. Miku could not swim. She had never learnt how. She had no idea where she was or what she had fallen into – if she was in the right state of mind, she would have assumed that she fell inside a pond – but as she continued to flail about, trying to keep herself afloat, she realised that she was unable to feel anything below her feet.

The water was clearly very deep, and it was freezing. The icy chill soaked her, as though the night air wasn't already cold enough on its own. She felt her eyelids lowering as her screams began to weaken – she couldn't keep this up for long. The water was entering her mouth, and she tried to take shallow breaths, tilting her face up so she could stay above the surface for as long as possible. But part of her despaired – why did she even try? She couldn't swim. She couldn't even hear the dogs anymore. No one was coming to rescue her. She was completely alone.

She should never have tried to escape the palace. If she never left, at least she would still be alive. She realised detachedly that she was beginning to cry, but the icy chill was all around her and it was entering any opening it could find. Her head was sinking now, and the world beneath the surface seemed so quiet and peaceful. Maybe she should just close her eyes and go to sleep. Maybe it would just turn out to be a bad dream. Her lips parted, and tiny bubbles escaped her mouth, the water flowing everywhere. She couldn't even cough.

Maybe she was hearing things, but she thought that she could hear someone shouting her name. But that was probably just a hallucination. There was no one out there – even the hunting dogs had stopped chasing her. " _Cinderella_!" she heard it again, and this time the voice was very distinct. She thought she could almost recognise it. Her arms were floating in the dark water around her, and she was sinking, sinking slowly into the gloom. It really was nice and peaceful here. It wouldn't be a bad way to die. At least she didn't burn to death like her father did. But she had let him down. He sacrificed himself for her, allowed the fire to consume his body only for her to drown. He burnt, and she drowned. She really was his daughter.

" _Cinderella_ …" her name seemed to echo from somewhere far away. She wondered why the voice was saying this other name rather than her real one. She wanted to correct the voice and say her name was Hatsune Miku, but her mouth was filled with water and she couldn't say a word. Her eyes were closing, and her mind was giving way. It was quiet and tranquil here, a noticeable contrast to the panic and fear from earlier. Her hair was floating around her face, and she found herself reliving her life, little flashes of memory going past her eyes. She had only lived for eighteen years, but overall…perhaps it wasn't such a bad life after all.

Suddenly, she felt something wrap tightly around her waist. She didn't know what it was. It was strange, but she had no energy to look. Her memories slipped away from her like sand trickling through clenched fists. She was moving upwards now. Idly, she wondered if she was going to live – it was the last thing on her mind before she finally blacked out.


	31. Chapter 31

Kamui Gakupo looked around, lowering his lamp. It had been a while since he last saw this room. The other two cloaked figures entered the chamber after him, the last one closing the door. The light of the lamps flickered, throwing large shadows across the stone walls.

"A pity that Hatsune Mikuo is not here with us. Otherwise, we would be complete," one of the others commented, lowering his hood, revealing the Duke of Kraujas, the head of the Sakine Dukedom. The other man snorted, and Gakupo shot him a careful look. He'd never been fond of him. He was as sly as a snake, and one could never trust what he was saying.

"Too bad he got himself killed in a fire," he shook his head, raising his lamp and placing it on the stone altar in the middle of the room. Sakine Kiyoteru seemed a little uncomfortable – not that Gakupo could fault him. Their companion had a way of talking that seemed to turn everyone against him. "How is that brat of mine doing, Gakupo? I _am_ keen to know more."

"He is doing very well. He'll make an excellent ruler one day," Gakupo answered evenly, not wishing to raise his voice at the man, Len's biological father. The Duke of Fendley, head of the Kagamine Dukedom, snorted again and lowered his hood, cold blue eyes narrowing at him. Kagamine Leon had always been very antagonistic towards the throne, and Gakupo was aware that he thought _he_ deserved the right to rule. He had to be careful around him.

"I suppose I should be glad you took in that mewling coward. Trying to get himself killed just because his little girlfriend died," Leon drawled, pacing around the room. "If he really _did_ die, I wouldn't have any other descendant to replace me. And that would have meant the downfall of our Order," he turned around, grimacing. Gakupo just nodded wordlessly.

He glanced at Kiyoteru, whose discomfort seemed to be growing. The Sakine family had only recently reintegrated with the Order. A few centuries ago, the Head of their family suddenly declared themselves separate from the Order, and though his immediate bloodline left along with him, a substantial part of the extended Sakine family chose not to follow. The Dukedom eventually passed down to someone whose affiliations still lay with the Order, so the Sakine family had been brought back into the fold. Needless to say, they had a great deal of catching up to do.

"He is due to check your gate soon, is he not?" Gakupo asked, just to be certain. He did not want to force his adopted son to do something he hated unless it was necessary. He already went to the Sakine family's mansion to maintain their gate, and unless he absolutely had to, Len would really rather not return to his previous home. Leon shot him a cruel smile.

"Very soon. He can only put it off for so much longer," the other man told him carelessly. He turned, his shadow turning along with him – for a second, the giant, monstrous shape of a shadowy raven loomed over them, and then it was gone. "We only have to wait a few more months. Once the moon and the stars align, we can summon our Lord and have all our wishes granted," Leon declared. There was fanatical excitement in his words, and Gakupo winced.

"How is the vessel doing?" Kiyoteru asked, a little timid. Clearly, he was keen on finding out more about the Order. But Leon was especially secretive about the vessel this time. There had not been a host in the past two decades – Gakupo himself was still a child when he saw the previous one. Back then it had been Leon's father who was the High Priest. He could barely remember what the vessel looked like, but he vaguely recalled a girl who had wavy ebony hair and distinct green eyes which indicated that she was part of the Hatsune family. But this confused him because he was very sure that in the Hatsune family, Mikuo was the only child.

Perhaps his memory was playing tricks on him. "The vessel is doing well," Leon's response was dismissive. "By the way, _Your Majesty_ ," he abruptly changed the topic, turning towards Gakupo with something almost like a sneer on his face, "I am just wondering, why does your dear son keep rejecting all our proposals? The Council grows weary, and we have reached a stalemate. Are you sure that the young prince of Ossyria knows what he's doing?"

Gakupo had to wonder how a father could possibly loathe his son so much. There was so much poison in Leon's voice that it made him feel a little ill just listening to it. If possible, he would rather not deal with this man. However, their statuses and their positions in society made it all but impossible for him to avoid the Duke of Fendley. On the bright side, Leon thought so little of the Council and the royal family that he never bothered to show up for any events in person, often sending an aide or some other, less important member of the extended Kagamine family to stand in for him. Which was good, since that meant Len did not have to face the man who disowned him after he tried to kill himself.

"You will have to ask him personally if you want to know the reason why. Though I am certain that he explained all his responses in his letters, assuming that you even read them? Whatever his reasons are, keep in mind that your proposals will not be able to go through until he gives his seal of approval," Gakupo pointed out. Leon made a small sound of irritation, looking away from the king. "He takes a long time to deliberate because he has the welfare of this country at heart. Granting him an active role in shaping the economy has swiftly boosted trade with other nations. We are more prosperous now than we were a mere decade ago."

"Oh, you do not need to tell me that. I am very much aware of the brat's accomplishments as the prince," the Duke's voice soured. Kiyoteru was simply remaining quiet, not wishing to get involved in a quarrel between two of the most powerful men in the country. "And what of his pretty little fiancée? News of his recent engagement has reached even my ears, given how often the heralds were shouting about it. You'd think the people in this country would have better things to talk about than the prince's marriage. The nobles are starting to make bets on it, you know."

"Really?" Gakupo asked, interested. He hadn't known about the bets. "How interesting. I must return to the palace soon and ask the servants about this fascinating development," he mused. Leon shot him an irritated look, clearly wondering if he was being serious about this matter or not.

"I asked you a question, Gakupo. Stop avoiding it. Who is his fiancée?" Leon growled. "I care little for the boy, but his son _will_ eventually be the next High Priest of the Order, so I must find out more about his bride. Is she worthy of carrying on the Kagamine bloodline?"

"She claims that she hails from Veracent. A maiden from another country," Gakupo did not reveal his suspicions that she might be the sole direct descendant of the Hatsune family, Hatsune Miku. Leon was a greedy man. Gakupo had no doubt that if he found out the girl was still alive, he'd keep her in mind just in case their current vessel failed. Gakupo did not wish to involve her in any of these proceedings, especially not when she actually seemed to make Len…well, happy. He could tell that his adopted son cared a great deal for the girl.

Though Len was still unwilling to look beyond his past and love another, it was clear to all of them at the palace that Cinderella was not just any normal girl to him. Gakupo predicted it wouldn't be long before Len really fell for her. Perhaps more would be seen at the next ball – which incidentally, his birth father had yet to receive an invitation to. Gakupo was unsure if he ought to invite the Duke of Fendley at all. His presence would no doubt raise tensions.

And he was absolutely certain that the man would actually drag himself to this event, given his curiosity about who his biological son was going to marry. And if he actually saw Cinderella, it was likely that he'd arrive at the same conclusion – that this girl might very well be the last remaining descendant of the Hatsune family. Gakupo decided this could not be allowed to happen. He would not send an invitation to Len's father, and if Leon asked why he was not asked to attend, Gakupo would claim that the letter got lost on the way to him.

That sounded like a decent plan. "A girl from Veracent?" Leon grimaced, looking displeased at this prospect. "Why is he shacking up with some foreigner? The traders from Veracent are currently making our lives a living hell. And he intends to sleep with the enemy now, does he?"

"Don't be so uncouth, Leon," Kiyoteru mumbled, shaking his head. Gakupo was grateful for the intervention – he did not know what he might have said otherwise. He was normally a calm and peaceful man, but even he had his limits, and Leon's disparaging comments tested his patience. Cinderella was a lovely girl. How could Leon say all these things about a girl he had never even met? And shouldn't he at least wish happiness for Len, after everything his son had gone through?

But what did he expect anyway? They already knew from the beginning that the Head of the Kagamine family was a callous, cruel man. It was most likely something to do with his role as the High Priest and his subsequent proximity to the gates, but that didn't serve as an excuse for him to be a horrible person. "The least you could do is to pretend that you're glad he found someone," Gakupo kept his words short and firm, hoping that his indignation wouldn't be too obvious.

Leon shook his head, the gesture almost despairing. "And speak a lie? You know that I could hardly care less about the boy, Gakupo. I still don't understand what you saw in him. Why save a boy who cannot be trusted to treasure his own life? Only a fool would kill himself over a woman. And his youth was not an excuse for his actions either. I cannot call him my son."

"Nor does he call you his father," Gakupo pointed out placidly. Leon smirked in response, unoffended by the jibe. "One day Leon, you're going to die alone on your deathbed, and you will regret abandoning your only son this way. You only have one legitimate heir, and even if you declare him estranged, your titles and your fortune will all still go to him."

Leon rolled his eyes. "Oh, carry on preaching, Kamui. You were always the one who insisted on treasuring family bonds and kinship. Let me tell you that everything you speak of now is not necessary when you have a higher calling, as I do," his smile was unpleasant. "And my brat of a son understands that perfectly well. Why else do you think he is still the Keeper even though he is no longer my heir? The one thing I can praise him for is his sense of duty."

"Did you consider the possibility that he retains that role because there is no one else who can carry out his work?" Gakupo retorted dryly. "If the gates are all opened, who knows what kind of repercussions there will be. He is still the Keeper because if he does not keep that duty, there may be far worse outcomes than simply having to deal with his estranged father. But I do agree with you that he has a strong sense of responsibility. He truly does."

"Of course. He was born from my blood," Leon shot him a scathing look. "We've been holding on to this mantle for decades, the role of High Priest passing down from Head to Head. He will eventually succeed me as High Priest as well, whether he wants to or not. And believe me," he smiled thinly, "I will have no regrets on my deathbed. I know I lived my life to serve our Lord, and in death, I will be rewarded for my dedication. The Kagamine family has no space for weaklings like Len. The bloodline must be carefully pruned and kept pure…he is no son of mine."

There was no point in saying more to Leon. The Duke of Fendley was quite plainly deranged. Then again, all of them knew that from the beginning. Gakupo supposed he was grateful Len did not turn out like his father. He wished he was able to keep the prince away from his dark heritage, but as an outsider, he was not allowed to intervene. This trial was something Len would have to face on his own. He hoped that the prince would not succumb to the allure of the Order, just like the rest of them standing here right now, just like the rest of his entire bloodline.

* * *

Miku thought she was drowning. It was impossible to breathe – she expected fresh air with every breath she took, but instead, water flooded her lungs, cold and heavy. She tried to cough, but her body did not obey. Her arms and legs were sinking. No one could hear her.

She couldn't see. It was dark all around her, but she could feel the wetness and the coldness and she somehow knew that she was in deep water somewhere. Where exactly, she wasn't sure. How she got here, she didn't know either. She tried to move her body, but again it did not listen. There was a heavy weight pressing her down, keeping her in place as she slowly sank all the way to the bottom. Was she going to reach solid ground soon? Where was she?

How long had she been here? Her lungs ached, and it hurt. The cold hurt, everything hurt. She wanted to kick upwards, but at the same time it was so tranquil down here. How was it that somewhere so peaceful could put her in so much pain? It was so different from the burning nightmares she had. This was a different kind of death. Less guilt, less heat, more weight.

But someone caught her. Someone seized her hand and started pulling her – she felt her body slowly but surely moving upwards, and it felt like she was swimming through tar. The further up they went, the easier it was to breathe. Her lungs were no longer aching as badly. She squinted upwards, trying to see who her saviour was, but everything was a blur around her and she couldn't see anything clearly. The hand which gripped hers was warm and reassuring. It was very comforting sensation after feeling so lost and alone, afraid in the water.

Suddenly, she could see light above her. Her head broke the surface of the water, and she blinked the droplets away from her eyes, gasping – her lungs automatically reacted to this development, taking in deep, grateful gulps of fresh air. Somehow, she found that she was floating despite not knowing how to swim. The water was a nice shade of blue that looked almost familiar – it reminded her of someone's eyes. The cool liquid buoyed her up, keeping her afloat.

She felt very safe, all of a sudden. Her surroundings no longer felt as threatening as they did when she was underwater. Wonderingly, she trailed her fingers over the blue surface, watching the little ripples move across the water. Then she remembered her saviour and turned her head, looing around for them. She spotted someone on the riverbank, his gaze fixed on her.

He was smiling. She blinked blearily, trying to focus – then she saw that it was Prince Romeo, kneeling on the sand and waiting for her. He waved at her, and she waved back, a giggle escaping her lips. Of course, it had been him who rescued her. She could always rely on him to keep her safe, couldn't she? She tried to walk, and she found that she could easily cut through the waters now. There was a solid mass underneath her feet, but when she looked downwards, she couldn't see the bottom. She now realised she was in a lake, calm and serene.

It was all pleasant and tranquil. There were birds chirping, and white clouds floated lazily overhead, the summer sky a beautiful shade of blue just like the lake, just like the prince's eyes. But there was a nagging doubt within her – this wasn't what she was supposed to be doing. This wasn't what she had planned. Something was horribly wrong. But she couldn't remember why she felt so uneasy. It was missing – there was something missing in this picture, but what was it?

Her gaze landed on a little cloth sack on the shore right next to the prince. She saw it and she gasped, suddenly remembering – she was supposed to escape the palace. She had run away into the forest, she had run away from the prince. She glanced back at him and saw that the smile on his face was gone, and he was watching mournfully from afar, his hand dropping to his side. His gaze was fixed on something behind her, and she turned around.

Sharp white canines snapped at her face, and she screamed as the black hunting dogs growled, lunging for her throat. Those strong jaws were mere seconds from closing around her neck, and she tried to back away, pushing her arms out to protect herself from the dogs. Their rancid breath landed on her skin, wet saliva dripping onto her arms, and she felt her eyes welling up with hot tears. She wished she had drowned instead of facing this fate –

And suddenly her eyes opened, her chest heaving. She was lying on a bed. The room was dim, and as she blinked, disoriented by her nightmare, she realised that there was someone holding on to her hand. She turned her head slightly and saw golden blond hair on the bed beside her. The prince was resting on the bed, his blue eyes closed, and she could hear his soft breathing.

She looked down at her hand. The prince's fingers were intertwined with hers, and he was gripping her hand tightly. Even in his sleep he refused to let go. She watched his face, just barely able to reach out to him with her other hand. Slowly, she stroked his hair, unable to believe that she was still alive and the prince was by her side. She really thought she was going to drown in the forest. How long had it been since she was rescued from the pool?

His expression was troubled. There was a small frown on his face, and she wondered what he was dreaming about. Gently squeezing his fingers, she slid her hand down from his hair to his cheek, lightly cupping his face. She felt him relax at her touch, and she closed her eyes again, these simple actions tiring her. She had never felt so weak before, not in her entire life. Not even when she became dangerously sick as a child and was forced to stay in bed for a week. Maybe she ventured too close to the brink of death. But she was grateful to be alive.

"Cinderella…?" she heard the prince murmur her name. She opened her eyes once again, turning towards him. His blue gaze was frantic, but he calmed down when she looked at him. "You're awake," he whispered, and the relief in his voice was palpable. "I was afraid that you'd never wake up. You were unconscious for two days, and I –" he hesitated. For a moment, she could see vulnerability on his face. Then suddenly, his gaze hardened.

"What were you thinking?" he demanded, letting go of her hand. Her other hand fell from his face, limp. She blinked, startled by his sudden change in demeanour. One moment he was tender and frightened, and the next, he was cold and angry. He had gotten up from his chair and was now standing away from the bed, quiet fury in his expression. "I read your letter. And I don't understand – _why_ didn't you just tell me that you wanted to travel? Why didn't you just _discuss_ things with me? Why did you run away and put yourself in danger?"

Even in her weakened state, she was beginning to get angry. She had only just woken up, and now the prince was shooting questions at her, sounding so accusatory that she could not help feeling defensive. "Because you wouldn't have listened to me!" she retorted, and her voice was a croak. She winced. Talking hurt her throat. The prince fell silent when she responded, though she could tell from the set of his jaw and the frown on his face that he was still upset. "You would have just said no and refused to listen when I tried to explain. You think that anyone who leaves you isn't going to return because that's what happened to your fiancée! Do you think I want to keep bringing up something that hurts you so much?"

He didn't say anything for a while. Instead, he approached the bed again, holding her gaze the entire time. She refused to look away, waiting for him to reply instead. Every breath she took hurt a little, but the pain was proof that she was still alive, so she didn't complain. The prince sighed and sat once more, reaching out to hold her hand. He raised her hand to his lips, and she could feel him press a gentle kiss onto her skin. He seemed almost afraid.

"If you thought talking about travelling would hurt me, then what makes you think that you running away would hurt any less?" he asked simply. She didn't know how to answer him because he raised a very valid point. "Is that why you asked me how I would feel if you turned out to be nothing more than a dream? Because you were going to run away that very night?"

His gaze searched hers, and she bit her lip, looking away mutinously. She didn't want to say yes though that was the truth. He sighed, and it was a sound filled with resignation. "I knew that you were planning something," he began. "Gumo had his suspicions about your behaviour lately. And Gumi told me that someone stole a uniform from her dresser – clearly, someone who does not know that she has specific sets she wears for different days," he was watching her as he explained. She tried not to react to his words. "The past few nights, I've not been sleeping well because I feared you would try to slip away in the middle of the night. And eventually, you really did."

That meant he hadn't been sleeping the night she ran away. Her heart sank in her chest. And she thought she had been so careful. "The guards didn't come to stop you because I wanted to see what you had in mind," the prince continued. "Gumo told me he thought you might try to leave the palace through the forest, and you really went all the way there despite not knowing a single thing about what lay within," there was a hint of anger in his voice. "When I saw you sneaking past the gate, I could only wonder – how desperate must you be to run away, such that you would risk going through a dangerous place you barely even knew?" he asked. His grip on her hand tightened. "And if you really hated life in the palace so much…then why didn't you just tell me?" his voice softened to a whisper.

She could hear the pain in his words, and she averted her gaze, feeling horrible. "I followed you through the trees. It wasn't difficult since it was clear you had no idea where you were going, and you weren't familiar at all with the area. But I lost track of you when the hunting dogs started chasing you, and after a while I heard you screaming. I ran as fast as I could, and then I saw you drowning in a pool," his gaze darkened. "I could only think about saving you. And if I had been any later, you may have died. I still cannot bear the thought of that."

Her guilt gnawed at her, and it was an unpleasant feeling, so she did what she was most comfortable with – turning that guilt into defensive anger. "Maybe I didn't wish to be rescued?" she blurted out the first thing which came to mind. Romeo stared at her, shock in his blue gaze. She carried on, though she knew she was making a terrible mistake. "Perhaps what I meant by _escape_ was to kill myself. Did you consider that?" she narrowed her eyes at him. Her mouth was no longer connected to her brain, and she desperately wanted to stop, but she was unable to keep quiet.

Romeo's eyes narrowed as well, and she shivered – it was the first time she saw true anger in his gaze. Perhaps she had gone too far. "Your _letter_ says otherwise, Cinderella. I'm very sure that you cannot explore the world and expand your knowledge if you are _dead_ ," he told her scathingly, letting go of her hand. She pushed herself up so that she was no longer lying helplessly on the bed, glaring at him the entire time. "Why are you being so defensive? I just want to know why you didn't simply _tell_ me that you wished to travel overseas. Given that you ran away from me just to fulfil your dreams, I think that is a reasonable question to ask."

"Reasonable?" she seethed. She felt miserable doing this, but the words came out without her even thinking about them. "It's all you ever wanted, Romeo – a bride who would quietly stay by your side and do everything you wanted her to do. You want to pick me apart just for the sake of entertainment! But you don't think about the fact that I have my own wishes too!"

Romeo got up from his chair, clearly exasperated. "Stop trying to shift the blame!" he answered hotly. "If I hadn't gone to save you, you would have _died_ there. All I want to know is why you were being so selfish! Why didn't you just talk to me about your feelings? Do you know how my fiancée died?" he demanded, meeting her gaze. She shook her head, stunned into silence. She had not expected such a vehement outburst.

He gritted his teeth. "She _drowned_. Her body was found in a river, and when I first saw her in her casket, she still bore clear signs of water damage. And that made me imagine how frightening her death must have been. When I saw you in that pool," his voice was hoarse, "how do you think I felt? Don't tell me that I don't care about you, Cinderella. Don't tell me that all I want is a pretty face who will listen to every word I say because if I did, I wouldn't have cared when I opened my eyes and you weren't in bed next to me. I wouldn't have cared when you slipped out of the palace and ran into the forest, and I wouldn't have cared when I saw you drowning in that pool!" his voice was agitated, and his chest was heaving.

She was stunned into silence. She could hear the frustration and the pain in his words, and she knew that he was telling her the truth – that he cared much more than she ever thought he did. After a while, she cleared her throat. "I just…I just never thought you cared enough to talk about what I wanted," she quietly admitted, feeling ashamed of herself. She never even tried, already convinced that he would simply ignore her. "I thought you cared more about yourself and what you wanted than my feelings. I thought raising this issue with you would be a waste of my effort."

He stared at her, not saying a word. After a while he sighed, slowly shaking his head, sitting not on the chair this time but on the bed instead. "Let us agree to not make assumptions about each other in the future," he whispered. "I would be willing to listen to anything you wanted to say, Cinderella. I thought that the past few days were enough to show you that. I know you used to doubt my intentions, so I wanted to show that I genuinely do care about you," he met her gaze. His blue eyes were mournful. "What more must I do just to prove that my feelings towards you are genuine? And that none of this is an act?" he asked.

Her breath caught as he stared at her. She never knew anyone could look so sad. The depth of emotion in his eyes – it was the kind of pain that could only come from someone who had really suffered. They were kindred spirits, and while she couldn't fully empathise with his agony, she understood how he felt to some extent. They were both broken, and he had tried to find comfort in her. She was the one who pulled away and rejected him. Everything that happened between them, the misery in his gaze now as he looked at her – she knew it was all her fault.

And this time, she didn't want to blame someone else for her mistakes. She didn't want to accuse him of not trying to understand her when she never even gave him the chance to try. And she didn't want him to continue feeling as though she never appreciated anything he did for her, because she truly did. As they continued looking at each other, neither one of them knowing what to say, she felt her chest tighten with emotion. Leaning forward, she reached up towards him, pulling his face down to her, and the next thing she knew she was pressing her lips to his.

It was a very quick kiss, lasting no more than a second, but she could remember the feeling of his soft mouth against hers. She had never, _never_ imagined that she would ever kiss the prince, but that was precisely what she did, and she let go as quickly as she started. Romeo stared at her, shell-shocked, and she wondered if she had made a mistake. Maybe she should not have done that while he was still feeling so emotional. She was very bad with timing, as seen by how she decided to run away from the palace despite knowing deep down that she didn't really want to go. She averted her gaze, not wanting to look at him after what she did. "I apologise. I did that on impulse," she mumbled. "I understand if you feel offended –"

She felt slender fingers tilting her chin, abruptly cutting her off, and the next thing she knew, his soft lips were on hers and Romeo was kissing her. She blinked in surprise, but his gentle hands were caressing her face and he was slowly lowering her onto the bed, his body hovering protectively over hers. She reached up, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck, and for the next couple of moments, they just kissed, her eyelids fluttering as she tried to make sense of what was happening. He was warm. He was her first kiss. And his kiss was gentle and needy – she could feel his breath on her face, his lips brushing against hers, his hands gripping her shoulders as he held her tight. She never knew that his lips could feel so soft.

And then she began to cough, gasping for air. Romeo quickly let go of her, backing away, and as she covered her mouth with her hand, trying to catch her breath, he watched her with a look of confusion and horror on his face. She didn't understand why he seemed so terrified. "Romeo?" she asked, concerned, still coughing a little. Was it something she did wrong? But he just shook his head at the sound of his name, not looking at her.

"No, no – I shouldn't have done that," he mumbled, and when he next glanced at her, his blue eyes were empty. Traces of shock still lingered in his expression. "Rest well. I must go," he suddenly told her, and he promptly turned around, departing the room, slamming the door shut as he left. She stared at the closed door, wondering about his sudden change in behaviour. One moment he was soft and tender, and the next he was harsh and abrupt. Had he not liked their kiss? But she was convinced that he did. She had the feeling that he would not have parted from her if she did not start coughing. She raised her fingers to her lips, wondering.

Her mouth felt a little strange. She glanced at the closed door again, thinking about what his problem might be. He looked so confused, and that worried her. But she was still tired from her ordeal, and arguing with Romeo, kissing him – all this had taken up energy she could ill afford to waste. She sank back down onto the bed, her eyes closing as she laid her head on the pillow. Maybe she could find him later and ask him what was wrong. But for now, her body was tired and aching, and the only thing she wanted to do was to sleep.


	32. Chapter 32

Len sank to the ground, holding his head between his hands. He gritted his teeth, closing his eyes. He could still feel Cinderella's lips brushing against his, and the look of uncertainty and nervousness in her green eyes when she withdrew from him the first time –

He shook his head sharply. No, that wasn't supposed to happen. None of that should have happened. He was still frightened, still confused, and now he didn't know what he wanted to do – should he go back to that room and talk things out with her? Or should he vent his frustration using other outlets? If he saw Cinderella again, he didn't know what he might do.

The one thing he knew for sure was that he had broken his promise to never fall for another girl, and that sickened him. He had always been struggling with the belief that he was a worthless person who didn't deserve to live – he never understood why, no matter how many times he tried to kill himself, he was never able to truly _die_. He based his value on his fiancée, and when Rin died, suddenly there was no longer any point to him living either.

Who was he without Rin? No one. When Rin left him, suddenly he wasn't _needed_ by anyone anymore, and that thought pushed him over the edge. He could remember everything his birth father told him when he was a child – he had to be strong, he had to be determined, he could never allow his emotions to sway him because as the Keeper of the Gates, even the tiniest bit of interference could destroy everything they worked so hard for. His birth father had been growing more and more irritated with Len's feelings for his fiancée, and the final straw came when he attempted suicide because of her. He was disowned shortly after that.

The king didn't allow him to die. The king, who had been paying Kagamine Leon a visit on that fateful day, saw him huddled in a heap outside the nobleman's stable, shivering in the cold. It was chilly that day, the autumn leaves falling gently around him. Winter was fast approaching, and he was outside on his own, eyes blank, staring into space, his arms wrapped around his knees. The king offered him a choice – either he could waste his life trying to kill himself again, or he could join him and perhaps do something useful with all the years he had left to offer. Len hesitated, unwilling to make a decision immediately, but the king was persistent and he sat there for hours, talking to him until he finally chose the latter option.

He promised to do well as the prince. Even if his father disowned him, he could still be of use to someone – but he also swore that he would never feel romantically for anyone ever again. He didn't want to go through the same process of falling in love and losing that person. He didn't want to feel useless again. As the prince, he was of use, but as a lover, he couldn't help or save anyone. Rin, Rin, _Rin_ – she died because of him. He only wanted to help the king, the man who had saved his life. His life belonged to him now, which was why he continued to live and why he served the country. Though admittedly he _had_ relapsed and tried to kill himself a few times, the first few months he lived in the palace. But he had steadily gotten better.

The responsibility of being a prince was something he gradually grew accustomed to. The pain of being a lover, on the other hand, was a burden he did not wish to carry again. So why did he kiss her? He should have just accepted her apology and left. She said so herself, that she had kissed him on impulse, and he doubted she would have done the same thing if she had been in a clear state of mind – but when he felt her warm breath brushing lightly against his face, those delicate lips that met his so hesitantly, he didn't want to just let go of her. He buried his face in his hands. He could still remember the taste of her mouth.

"Your Highness?" two sets of footsteps approached him, and then Gumo and Gumi knelt down on either side of him, both twins reaching out to comfort him. "Are you…feeling all right?" Gumi asked, something almost motherly in her voice. She was like an older sister to him. Len's mother had died in childbirth, and part of him always knew that his father, Kagamine Leon, blamed him for his mother's death. Ever since he was a baby, Leon had been distant around him, only speaking to him regarding the Order or his duties as a nobleman's son. It was Leon's servants who raised him, his tutors who spent time with him. His birth father was always absent.

Gumo just remained silent, his gaze fixed on the prince, waiting for any indication that he was willing to talk. Len lifted his head and looked at the two servants, meeting their green eyes. He was reminded of _her_ wide eyes, watching him with that same sense of curiosity, almost concern – he groaned and hid his face again, not wanting to be reminded of her so soon.

"She's awake," he told them, his voice muffled by his hands. "Go and see to her. She needs more help than I do right now," he ordered, wishing to be left alone. Both servants paused, glancing at each other. Then, instead of standing and leaving him be as he wanted, Gumo and Gumi just sighed and sat beside him, not saying a word. The three of them stayed there against the wall, and Len thought about how strange this must look.

"We understand that you are in pain," Gumo started hesitantly, clearing his throat. His sister nodded in agreement. "And that you hate it when other people witness you at your most vulnerable. But we care for you, Your Highness, so we will not try to comfort you with empty words. We just ask that you allow us to stay here with you until you are able to lift your head again."

"Yes," his sister echoed him. "While we are delighted that Cinderella is awake…after such an ordeal, what she needs the most is rest. She has to sleep and recover. What you need, on the other hand, is something very different," her voice quietened. "Please believe that we only wish for you to feel better. We may not understand your pain, but we can sympathise."

Len didn't say a word. He could feel his heart racing from agitation, but he let the soothing voices of the Nakajima twins wash over him and calm him down. A few moments later, he looked up again, though his eyes remained closed. "Am I useless?" he asked, and his voice trembled slightly. He had never heard himself sounding so small. The twins shook their heads.

"You are the crown prince of Ossyria. You have done many things to help the people of this country," Gumi told him firmly. "And everything you say and do is with the intention of helping the king. He is grateful that you are here, settling everything on his behalf when he is not around. Your Highness, you mean very much to all of us at the palace, even if we do not always say so."

"But I let Rin die," he whispered, staring blankly at the wall opposite him. "And Cinderella – she ran away from the palace because she thought I couldn't understand her. She too almost died because of me," his fingers clenched into fists. He could feel his nails digging into his skin. "If I really am useful, then why is it that everyone around me – why does every girl I ever grow to care about come to so much harm?" he asked, his voice breaking a little.

Gumo and Gumi looked helplessly at each other. They didn't know how to help the prince, not when he was in such a mood. The one who was most probably the only person who could get through to him was currently resting in another room, recovering from drowning. Gumo cleared his throat. "Your Highness, you cannot blame yourself for that. It is _not_ your fault. It was a stroke of ill fortune, a series of events that resulted in unfortunate circumstances – but it is certainly not your fault," the butler stressed. Len shook his head. Could that really be true?

"When Rin left me," he began, "I made two promises. One promise was to the king, that I would live the rest of my life as part of the royal family, every action I make serving only to help this country. And the other promise was to Rin, that I would never fall for another girl. While she was still alive, I swore I would only have eyes for her, that I would protect her for as long as she lived, and I would always make her happy. That was not an oath I intended to break even though she is gone," he looked up, meeting Gumo's gaze. Those blue eyes were empty. "But in the end…if I care so much about Cinderella, does that mean I broke my promise to Rin?"

Again, the Nakajima twins had no idea what to say. After a while, Gumi sighed and gingerly, she reached out to hug the prince, who neither accepted nor rejected the gesture, sitting there stiffly while she patted his back. "I do not know Rin personally," she started, "but I am sure that she would not have wanted you to be on your own for the rest of your life. When you love someone, you wish the best for them, do you not? She must have wanted you to be happy. And if you really do care for Cinderella, and she makes you happy…then perhaps you _are_ meant to eventually move on. But that is something you must accept on your own."

The prince laughed against her shoulder, a desperate sound. Gumi glanced at her brother again, eyes filled with concern. The last time either servant saw the prince this way was nearly three years ago, shortly after his final attempt to kill himself. She could still remember those dark months. It had been necessary to watch him constantly to ensure that he wouldn't try to jump from the highest floor, or that he wouldn't attempt to stab himself with the ceremonial sword. Eventually, he calmed down and stopped trying to end his own life, but it was still a very frightening period for them, and his return to that state of mind worried both twins.

"I don't know," he mumbled. "All I know is that I am…I am lost. I feel like I just threw aside one of the main reasons why I still exist. These were the two promises I relied on to continue surviving, and I don't know what to do now that I broke one of them." He sighed, finally pushing himself up from the floor. Gumo and Gumi rose slowly with him, wondering what Len intended to do now, and he glanced at them, a small smile on his face. That smile was not very reassuring. "Don't worry. I don't intend to kill myself again," he promised, and his tone was so bleak that Gumi thought they couldn't possibly trust him to keep to his words.

But her brother nodded. "Then we will leave you alone, Your Highness," the butler spoke, and Gumi shot her twin a look of surprise – he shook his head, placing one hand on her shoulder while the prince walked away, looking uncharacteristically despondent. "Right now, hovering around him will only make him more upset. We should leave him be, and he will eventually sort out his feelings. Cinderella needs our attention more now."

Gumi hesitated, unsure if they could really just leave Len to his own devices when he was in such a state. But her brother was the prince's personal butler, so she supposed that he had a better understanding of what Len was like compared to her. She nodded. "Then we should go to Cinderella's room now and see if she requires anything. Poor girl," she exhaled, slowly shaking her head. "I've never seen the prince more terrified than when he brought her back to the palace. It frightened me too, seeing both of them soaked to the bone, Cinderella unconscious in his arms. Perhaps it is irrational for me to think this, but I feared that she was…that she was dead."

"No, my first instinct was to assume the same thing," Gumo murmured, turning his head and glancing at the empty passageway behind them. "She was so pale, like a ghost in his arms. I'm glad that we managed to warn the prince in time," he closed his eyes. "Do you think we could have avoided this situation if I raised my doubts earlier?" he asked quietly, now sounding troubled. "I had my suspicions about her, but I hoped that I was simply overthinking. Maybe if I had said something sooner, they could have talked things through."

Gumi shook her head, patting her brother's shoulder. "Chin up. Don't look so dejected," she scolded gently. "No one wanted things to turn out this way. You did what you thought was best," she paused. "And perhaps this is the catalyst we need for the prince to realise that he is allowed to move on," she mused to herself. Gumo inclined his head in acknowledgement, and the two servants made their way to Cinderella's room, both wondering what would happen after everything had settled. Change was coming, and that could either be a good thing or not.

* * *

Miku slowly opened her eyes, unsure what time it was. Her sleep had been dreamless, and she thought that was probably a good sign. The room was dim, the curtains drawn, so she guessed it probably was not night-time yet. Her gaze landed on a very familiar figure.

"How are you feeling today?" the prince asked. His voice was cool and detached, and he sat on a chair at the other side of the room, his legs crossed elegantly, hands resting on his lap. Ever since their kiss, the prince had been avoiding her. He came into her room to do work and he was always present, but at the same time, it felt like he wasn't there. He never came any closer to her even if they were having a conversation, and he would always leave after she had supper. Then he'd come back the next morning and the whole cycle would repeat itself.

Even the way he spoke to her now felt different. Gone were the tender whispers and the soft, understanding words – instead, he only spoke when he wanted to ask how she was feeling or if she was in need of anything. She found herself missing the way he used to ask her questions about herself. At least back then, it felt like a more _intimate_ kind of conversation, and she could also find out more about him in the process. Right now, the prince seemed reluctant to bring up anything personal. It was frustrating.

"Fine. I'm recovering," she answered the question, pushing herself up and studying him. He was writing a letter, and he didn't stop when she spoke, focusing intently on the parchment and the words he was penning down. "Why are you working in here? Do you not prefer your room or your study?" she asked, feeling a little irritated about his constant silence. If he was just going to look through his papers, then why did he even bother coming to her room?

"I'd like to keep an eye on you, but I also have work to do," he answered, sounding distant. She bit her lip, wondering if she ought to step out of bed and walk over to him just to get his attention. It had been three days since she first woke up, and while she was fairly sure that she could walk around by now, Gumi and Gumo absolutely insisted on her being bedbound for another four more days. They claimed that she needed to spend a week just resting before she was fully recovered. It was too troublesome to argue with them, so she agreed.

But she was bored out of her mind. The only thing she could do to pass the time, given how Romeo seemed reluctant to start a conversation with her, was to read a book and listen to the prince's quill scratching against his parchment. Sometimes, Gumo or Gumi would enter the room to give her something to eat and drink, but otherwise the servants left her room alone – either because they did not want to bother the prince while he was working, or they did not wish to disturb her rest. Miku prayed the palace servants would understand that there was a limit to how much she could sleep. She at least needed someone to talk to.

With a sigh, she pushed the covers away, attempting to get out of bed. Romeo glanced at her when she moved, a frown on his face. "You shouldn't try to get up," he admonished, but he didn't do anything else to stop her, his attention drifting back to his papers. She waved his words away and he didn't say anything else, so she walked around on shaky legs and found that unsurprisingly, she _wasn't_ keeling over from exhaustion. Miku was certain that the amount of time she had spent resting was more than sufficient. Now, if only she could persuade the servants to think the same way. Walking to the window, she peeked past the curtains.

The afternoon sunlight touched her face, and she closed her eyes, luxuriating in the warm glow. She had just been sleeping and sleeping the past three days, and she hadn't left the room at all except to use the lavatory. She found herself missing the gardens and the roses, and she eyed Romeo, wondering if he would try to prevent her from leaving the room. He was now reading something so intently that she doubted he would even notice if she was gone. Perhaps his sudden, mysterious desire to ignore her would actually be beneficial to her.

Turning away from the window, she walked slowly to the door, and the prince still did not react. He seemed completely lost in his own world. She was right behind his chair, and still he did not look back. With a satisfied smile, she placed her hand on the doorknob, but before she could turn it, Romeo's hand shot out, gripping her wrist. She froze, glancing at him.

The prince had turned in his chair, and he was now staring at her, his blue gaze unreadable. "And where are you going, if you would be so kind as to tell me?" he asked, and just like his eyes, his voice was neutral. She couldn't tell what he was thinking or feeling. She was tempted to pull away, but his fingers were tight around her and she knew she wouldn't be able to break free. "Cinderella?" he prompted when after a few seconds, she still had yet to answer.

"I just wanted to go see the rose gardens. I'm tired of staying in this room. I promise that I don't intend to run away this time," she held his gaze as she spoke, and she saw a flash of uncertainty cross his face when she said that. The fingers around her wrist loosened slightly, and she tugged experimentally, wondering if he would let go. But suddenly he got up from his chair and placed his hand over hers on the doorknob, averting his face.

"You are still weak," his words were clipped. "If you insist on going to the gardens, then I will have to accompany you. I do not wish to be responsible if you were to suddenly collapse in the palace grounds. You will give Gumo and Gumi quite a scare," he pointed out. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest – he was so close, but at the same time he felt so far away – and she slowly nodded, deciding that it made no difference whether he wanted to join her or not. Either way, she just wanted to leave this room and get some fresh air.

The prince opened the door, allowing her to leave first. She slipped past him, and he closed the door quietly behind them, looking up and down the passageway as he did so. "Gumi and Gumo will be displeased if they catch you outside your room, so we ought to avoid them if possible. Come with me," he turned down the corridor and she followed suit, staring at his stiff shoulders and his hands, with those slender fingers clenched tightly into fists. He didn't seem too happy about helping her sneak out of her room, and she felt a little sad at that thought.

Why was he avoiding her now? Why had he changed so much? She was certain it was because of their kiss. Perhaps he was not yet ready to move on from Rin. Perhaps he thought he was betraying his beloved. She couldn't even imagine how he was feeling right now; Romeo hardly showed any sign of emotion around her, and that made her feel strangely lonely. It felt like all the progress they made since becoming engaged to each other had been wiped away, just like that. If she knew this was going to happen, she would never have kissed him.

"Why are you being so cold to me?" she whispered as they went down the stairs, the prince not even offering his arm for balance the way he normally would. He paused when he heard her question, but he still didn't look at her. She stopped as well. "If it was because of that kiss, then I apologise. I know I should not have been so impulsive. But I wish that you would stop avoiding me. I miss the conversations we used to have, and…don't you miss them too?"

She could see his fingers tightening around the banister. "It's nothing to do with that kiss," he answered, and for once his words weren't cold or distant – she could hear the confusion in his voice, along with something almost like pain. He still refused to turn around. "I just…need to think about things. And I have a lot of work to do. I cannot afford to be distracted now."

"You told me not too long ago that even if I was the biggest distraction in the world, you'd still want me around," she pointed out, her heart thudding in her chest. What did she want out of speaking to him this way? She wasn't sure herself, but she knew that she was tired of being more or less ignored by her fiancé. "Though I am not sure if I want to be around you when you are only going to pretend that I am invisible. In that case, I may as well not be present, no?"

"Cinderella," he paused, and she stilled, waiting for him to continue. "You're still recovering from almost drowning. That means you need someone to be there for you in case you need assistance. Gumi cannot spend the whole day with you as she has other duties, and Gumo is helping her. Since all I need are a desk and a chair, then clearly the role of caretaker goes to me," he explained, glancing back at her. His blue eyes were distant once more. "This arrangement exists for your benefit, not mine. As you mentioned earlier, I'd much rather be in my room."

She couldn't help but feel a little hurt by how cold he sounded. "If you think that watching me is so much trouble, then you don't need to bother. I can look after myself," she told him hotly, brushing past him as she hurried down the stairs. From everything he said just now, it seemed like he viewed spending time with her as a burden, a responsibility he'd rather not have. She didn't want to force her company on anyone, and if he thought that watching her was troublesome, then she wished he would just leave her alone instead of making it clear that he'd rather be anywhere else. But the prince caught her elbow before she could leave.

"Watching you is no trouble," he told her quietly, and when she lifted her gaze to meet his, she saw that he looked strangely sad. "Because watching you at least convinces me that you aren't going to disappear again," he didn't look away, and she stood there, suddenly unable to think of a response. They stayed there for a few moments just staring at each other, and eventually, the prince let go of her, clearing his throat. "Let's proceed to the rose gardens," he murmured, and she nodded hesitantly, resuming her descent. He silently followed her.

A few of the servants caught them on the way out and tried to convince her to return to bed despite her protests. However, Romeo shot them a steady look and they immediately backed down. She felt bad, knowing that they were simply concerned for her and wanted to ensure that she would fully recover, but she was horribly bored and she just wanted to stretch her legs for a while. In hindsight, having the prince with her was useful since she could go anywhere she wanted when he was by her side. No one ever defied Romeo, so she could wander about as she pleased.

The late afternoon light touched the roses, bathing everything in a warm glow. It was going to be evening soon – she could see the sun slowly sinking in the distance. Reaching out to the bushes, she fondled one of the heavy scarlet blooms, inhaling the sweet fragrance. "I think that this is one of my favourite places here," she remarked, "besides the balcony, of course. Where do you frequent the most in the palace?" she asked the prince.

Romeo was staring contemplatively at the flower she held. "Be careful not to get pricked by the thorns," was all he said, and she frowned, wondering if he had heard her question. But before she could repeat herself, he glanced up at her and smiled. She blinked. It was the first smile she had seen on his face in three days. "My favourite place in the palace is the stables. But the rose gardens are a close second," he answered. "It truly is stunning. I like to come here to think."

"And what do you think about?" she probed, curious. It felt like their roles were reversed now – in the past, Romeo was always the one who asked her questions about herself while she answered him, albeit reluctantly, and almost always with a lie. But now she was the one who was asking him all these personal questions because she knew that if she did not, there would be nothing but silence between them. She hated how strange things were right now, and she longed for the more comfortable relationship they had before she ran away. But she supposed that she could only blame herself for this. Romeo seemed surprised by her question.

"Several things. My past. My mistakes. My future, whether it will be bright or foreboding. And whether I've made the right decisions or not," he told her, his voice soft. She nodded, not wishing to say anything more, and turned back towards the setting sun. It would be nice to just sit here and watch the sunset. "How long do you want to stay here?" the prince asked.

"Long enough to see the sun set between the hills," she answered, smiling a little as the warm rays touched her face. The prince just sighed and made his way to the fountain. She followed suit, and both of them sat on the stone bench next to the sculpture, their gazes turned towards the hills. The sky was a pretty shade of pink and orange, and the clouds were floating serenely along – the whole scene made her feel at peace. She had her hands placed beside her, and though she wasn't looking, Len kept glancing at her empty hand…

He hesitated, his heart racing. He knew he really shouldn't, not if he wanted to salvage the mess he made after he broke his promise. But Cinderella was staring at the sunset with a lovely smile on her face, and she had no idea how much it pained him to avoid her this way. He didn't want to, but he _had_ to for the sake of his sanity. If he could get himself back into that detached state of mind, if he could convince himself once more that she was nothing but a girl he was meant to investigate, then maybe he could make up for all his mistakes.

Their hands on the bench were almost touching. His fingers edged slightly towards hers, and she didn't react, so absorbed in the scenery around them and the tranquillity of it all. He swallowed, cautiously reaching out to hold her hand, and she didn't withdraw from him, allowing their fingers to intertwine. He felt soothed for a moment, just a fleeting, precious moment before his mind caught up with his body and he instantly snatched his hand away, berating himself for doing something he had promised not to do. Cinderella turned to face him then, confusion and hurt on her face, and he promptly got up from the bench, looking away from her. "If you wish to watch the sunset, then watch it on your own. I'll be heading back."

"Romeo –" he didn't stay to listen to her because he knew that if she continued talking he would just stay there, entranced by her melodious voice. Walking away from her was one of the hardest things he had ever done, but he hoped that he had made the right decision. He should never have gotten himself involved with Cinderella. Back then, during the ball, he should have just ignored her instead of deciding to help his father investigate her background. It was his own curiosity which led to all these mistakes. This was his only chance to rectify his wrongs.

He didn't notice Miku on the bench, staring at his retreating back with confusion in her gaze. She pressed her hand to her chest, the same hand Romeo held so delicately for a few seconds before he abruptly let go, as though she had burnt him. Why was he treating her this way? She wished he would tell her his reasons, but she doubted that would ever happen. She was in no mood to watch the sunset now. With a sigh, she got up from the bench, intending to return to her room. What else could she do? She hoped that the prince wouldn't be there.

* * *

The prince more or less ignored Miku for the next two weeks. He seemed to be going out of his way to avoid her now, even moving out of his bedroom after Gumi and Gumo deemed her fully recovered and allowed her to leave the room. It was making her rather anxious.

No one told her where the prince was sleeping or working now. He wasn't ever in his study either, and if it wasn't for the fact that Frost was still in the stables, she would have thought that he left the palace. Whatever he was doing, he clearly intended to avoid her so after a while, she stopped trying to search for him. If he did not wish to see her, then she would not force her company upon him, though she couldn't deny that her bed felt lonely without his presence.

She sighed, adjusting the mask she was wearing. It was the night of the engagement ball, and she already could guess it would not turn out well, given how the prince seemed to be staying away from her and the ballroom in general. "Gumi, do you think he will come?" she asked the servant, who was tightening her corset and helping her to put on her gown. Gumi paused.

"Perhaps," she answered, but she did not sound particularly convinced, and Miku sighed again. "Do not fret, Your Highness. Even if the prince is not present, you can still enjoy yourself. And if he really does not make an appearance, the king will likely tell all the attendees that he has taken ill. It would not be the first time the prince tried to hide from such events," Gumi muttered, and she sounded so disapproving that Miku could not help but smile. Gumi really was so motherly.

The king had been very shocked to find out about her near-death experience when he returned to the palace. He spent the next two weeks with Miku and Gumi, planning the engagement ball since the prince himself was conspicuously absent. The king was also much more forgiving than his adopted son – after listening to her story and finding out why she never said a thing about wanting to leave the palace, the king simply told her that everyone made mistakes and Romeo would eventually understand that as well. She hoped his words would come true.

Of course, she promised the king that she would never do anything like that again. She did not wish to disappoint someone so kindly and well-intentioned. "I hope he shows up though," she smoothed down the front of her dress, which was a pure, delicate white that reminded her of snow. Cul's designs really were beautiful. "This ball is meant to celebrate our engagement after all, and if I am the only one there, I think that would raise questions about the…the state of our relationship," she stumbled over her words. Gumi nodded, looking faintly concerned.

"It is a valid point you make, Your Highness. Let us see tonight whether the prince is willing to put aside his personal problems and fulfil his duty as your fiancé," Gumi commented. Miku glanced at the servant, wondering if Gumi had any idea why Romeo was avoiding her.

She thought his reason might be something to do with Rin, but she had no idea if she was right or not. She didn't want to assume that everything was to do with his dead fiancée. "Gumi, why is Romeo avoiding me nowadays? Do you know why? Is it because of something I did wrong?" she hesitated, turning to stare intently at the servant. Gumi grimaced – it was a very quick change of expression, and her frown smoothed back into a pleasant smile almost instantaneously, but Miku did not miss the look on her face.

"I do not think it is anything _you_ did wrong, Your Highness. He is simply confused," Gumi said this so dismissively that Miku giggled, unable to help herself. "I personally am of the opinion that he needs to discuss his feelings with you, but he insists on being left alone most of the time and he absolutely refuses to talk about anything related to you. I do not know what he is thinking now," she sounded apologetic. But Miku was grateful nevertheless for the information Gumi gave her.

"It does not matter that you cannot tell me what is on his mind. I am just glad to know that he is…doing well?" the lilt at the end of her statement made it sound more like a question. Gumi reached up to adjust the pearls in Miku's bun, tucking a loose lock of her teal hair behind her ear. When she next spoke, Miku could hear the exasperation in her voice.

"I would not say that he is doing well now. Far from it, in fact. But at the very least he is still alive," there was an ominous ring to Gumi's words, and Miku did not like it. She sincerely hoped that the prince, no matter what he was doing or what he was thinking, was not contemplating suicide again. Once more, if she had known what her actions would lead to, then perhaps she would not have chosen to run away from the palace or kiss him. As it was now, no amount of wishful thinking could alter their situation, so she tried her best not to think about it.

"Is it time for me to attend the ball?" she hoped that tonight she'd be able to dance freely and distract herself from her worries. Part of her also hoped that she'd be able to see the prince for the first time in two weeks, though it was also entirely possible that he'd choose not to attend. Gumi nodded, opening the door, and Gumo was waiting outside for her, his arm already extended for her. Taking a deep breath, she allowed Romeo's butler to lead her towards the ballroom, promising that she'd enjoy herself no matter what happened tonight.


	33. Chapter 33

"You might have to give the speech in place of the prince, Cinderella," Gumo leant over to whisper in her ear, his gaze shifting around the room. Miku winced at the mere thought of talking to all these people. She really did not like the idea of giving speeches to audiences.

Gumo and Gumi, just like the king, had not really held a grudge over her escape. Neither did any of the servants, actually. She knew that even if they were disappointed with her, even if they wanted to ignore her for a few days, she absolutely deserved it. She had betrayed their trust and she was grateful that no one seemed to mind her escape too much…well, no one besides the prince. And the prince clearly wasn't interested in coming to the ball tonight.

"How about the king?" she whispered back, her gaze landing on the man in question. The king was standing with two other men – one of them she vaguely recalled seeing at the prince's birthday ball, and the other had thick brown hair and chocolate eyes, much like Sakine Meito. Perhaps it was his father, the Duke? "He is here as well. Must it be me?"

"The king isn't the one getting married," Gumo pointed out, and she sighed, clasping her hands together. Why couldn't the prince at least be here to give the speech? She knew that public speaking was _precisely_ what he was good at. Even if he didn't wish to dance or mingle with the aristocrats, at the very least he could show his face. "Cinderella, I know that you dislike speaking to crowds, but given the prince's absence tonight, you have no choice."

"Very well," she adjusted her mask, looking around the ballroom as discreetly as she could. She didn't see her stepfamily, much to her relief. The king must have listened to her request to not invite them to the ball. "Just let me know when I must speak. Hopefully it will all be over and done with soon," she paused when another servant hurried up to her and Gumo, eyes wide with shock. "Yes?" she prompted when the servant just bowed nervously to her.

"Your Highness, there are some people outside the palace kicking up a fuss over not being invited to the ball. They demand to speak to you," the servant informed her, words rushed and panicky. Miku frowned – she already had an idea who these people might be, and she was not looking forward to dealing with them. To think that just a few moments ago, she had looked around the ballroom and felt relief that they were not present. "Do you wish to speak with them? Otherwise, I can tell the guards to escort them off the grounds," the servant continued, twisting her hands nervously together. Miku glanced at Gumo.

The butler had his brow furrowed. "Cinderella, I can handle the situation if you wish –" he started, but she shook her head. Gumo paused, and she turned her attention back to the servant, who straightened when Miku's gaze fell upon her, still awaiting her directions.

"I will speak to them myself. Lead the way," she told the servant, her voice quiet and even. The servant nodded, and Gumo gave her a look of concern, clearly hoping that she would change her mind. "It will be quick," she promised him, and after a moment's hesitation he stepped aside, allowing both of them to pass. She _hoped_ that it would be quick, at least.

The servant led her all the way to the palace entrance. She could see her stepsisters kicking up a huge fuss in front of the guards, who were exchanging helpless looks. They clearly had no idea how to deal with two angry ladies. Her stepmother stood behind her daughters, and she made no move to ease the situation. In fact, Miku was certain that there was a look of embarrassment on the older woman's face. She too would be ashamed to be associated with Anastasia and Lucinda. The two of them were attracting a great deal of attention.

"It's you!" Lucinda shrieked when she spotted Miku, her red hair done up in an extremely messy bun. It looked frizzier than usual. "How _dare_ you not send us an invitation when you are part of our family – so you think that being a princess makes you better than the rest of us now, do you?" her voice was becoming more and more high pitched. Miku winced.

"Perhaps there has been a mistake –" she decided to smooth things over with a white lie, hoping that she could settle this situation amiably and as swiftly as possible so that they would leave and she could return to the ball. But Anastasia interrupted her when she tried to explain, her eyes narrowing with cold anger. Miku couldn't stand the older stepsister. Though Lucinda was an annoying brat, at least she was vapid and easy to read. Anastasia was the one to watch out for – she was sly, and she always had something up her sleeve.

"We know you left out our invitations on purpose," she sneered, brushing some stray locks of hair away from her face. "Why? Are you afraid of the things we might tell the prince? And speaking of the prince – _where_ is your dear fiancé? Why is he not here with you, speaking to us? Perhaps he has realised that you are _worthless_ , that you tricked him into marrying you?"

The guards, the servant, the noblemen who were still slowly trickling past the gates – all of them paused to stare at this scene, curious about the accusatory words Anastasia hurled at her. Miku swallowed, wondering how she could respond to her stepsister. She didn't want to sound too defensive, and she certainly didn't want to explain why the prince was not by her side right now. She had little intention of letting Anastasia know her assumption was correct, that she had not invited her stepfamily due to fear of what they might let slip.

"The prince has taken ill tonight," she finally responded, deciding not to claim that he was in the ballroom. That would be an outright lie. At least here, she was simply evading the truth. "So he will not be able to participate in the ball. And I don't know what you're talking about, Anastasia," she met her stepsister's gaze levelly, tilting her chin. She would not back down. "What do you mean when you say I tricked the prince into marrying me? He proposed to me of his own accord. It was never my intention to marry him when I first went to the ball."

Of course, that was a lie, but her stepsisters had no way of verifying that. After all, Anastasia was not capable of reading her thoughts – for all she knew, Miku may have just intended to dance and enjoy herself at the previous ball, treating it as a brief respite from being locked up in the mansion. Anastasia's eyes narrowed further, but before she could say more, her mother, Miku's stepmother, stepped forward and placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Anastasia. Lucinda. Let's not embarrass ourselves any further," the older woman spoke up. Her voice was soft, but there was a ring of authority in her words that Miku had never heard before. Her daughters glanced at her, clearly unhappy, but they turned around and headed back down the path towards the carriage awaiting them at the bottom of the slope. Miku was surprised that they did not argue further. Since when did her stepmother command any respect from her daughters? "I apologise for the inconvenience, Your Highness," with a sigh, her stepmother turned towards her, bowing her head. "I promise it will not happen again."

"Wait a moment," Miku blurted out as the woman began to walk down the slope, following Anastasia and Lucinda. The older woman paused, glancing back at her, a quizzical look in her eyes. "I must ask you this. When the prince came to the mansion and rescued me from the cellar, did you ask him to save me from my situation?" she met the older woman's gaze, those green eyes that were so similar to her own, so similar to her father's eyes, and she realised that her stepmother looked very little like her daughters. Anastasia and Lucinda must take after their father more. The other woman hesitated, clearly reluctant to answer.

After a while, she nodded, and Miku frowned, feeling extremely confused. "Why would you do that?" she asked, needing to understand her motivations. When Romeo told her that her stepmother requested he take her away from the mansion, it made her question everything she thought she knew about her stepfamily. If her stepmother was only a passive figure who stood aside and watched as her daughters mistreated her, then why would she specifically ask the prince to rescue her? It didn't make sense. "Since when did you care about me?"

"I do care about you, Cinderella," even now, her stepmother used the infernal nickname her stepsisters gave her, and Miku winced, hating the sound of it on the older woman's tongue. However, she was glad that her stepmother did not use her real name – given the number of people present, the sound of her real name would no doubt raise many questions. "You are your father's daughter, and I adore you the same way I adored him. I always wanted to keep you safe and protected from the…other dangers which lurk around you. That is all."

"What other dangers?" she asked, bewildered. The older woman sighed, green gaze flitting between Miku and the palace personnel who lingered around them. The guards and the servant were clearly trying to ignore the conversation, but Miku noticed the interest on the servant's face and decided that her stepmother was right to be so cautious. "Tell me more. I must know about these dangers you seek to protect me from," she insisted, stubborn.

"There are people around you who would wish to harm you. That is all I can say," the older woman finally answered, unconsciously reaching up to sweep some of her black hair out of her eyes. "You are the princess of Ossyria now. Trust no one, not even those you assumed would never hurt you. Betrayal never wears the face of an enemy," her stepmother warned her. "I should leave now. My daughters are waiting for me. Take care, Your Highness," with those cryptic words lingering between them, her stepmother curtseyed and began to head down the slope. Miku was tempted to stop her again, but in the end, she held her tongue.

"I will return to the ball now," she informed the servant, who curtseyed and escorted her back to the premises, wisely saying nothing about the entire conversation. Miku turned her stepmother's words over in her head, wondering what she meant by that. Trust no one? And betrayal never wears the face of an enemy? Those warnings sounded more like riddles. She wasn't sure if the woman was spouting nonsense or if she really knew something Miku did not. But what could she possibly know? She had not been born into a noble family.

What would someone from the common class know? Troubled, she entered the ballroom, hoping that she'd be able to dance for a while to take her mind off things. Gumo came to meet her the moment she returned. "How did it go, Cinderella?" he asked, concerned.

"Oh, it was just my family kicking up a fuss because they did not receive an invitation to the ball. But I explained the situation and they went on their way. It was not much trouble," she reassured the butler. Gumo nodded slowly, looking relieved that no further problems arose. "What is happening now?" she asked, glancing around. There was still no one dancing yet.

"No one can begin until the prince leads the dance, remember?" Gumo reminded her. She blinked, suddenly recalling the tradition. Yes, the royals, especially the ones who were being celebrated, were always the first pair to dance. "However, since the prince is not here, it is not possible for him to lead. You will have to find another partner for the night," Gumo hesitated. "I would offer to dance with you, but I am only a butler, so I cannot possibly dance with you here. But I am sure there is another nobleman who would gladly give –"

"Oh yes, I would be delighted to stand in for the sickly prince, Your Highness," a new voice interrupted them, and it was vaguely familiar. A chill running down her back, Miku slowly turned around to see the Earl of Ereve standing there, a playful smirk on his face, a black mask covering his eyes. There were small red diamonds running along the top of the mask, and long black feathers were attached to the mask as well, grand and elegant. It was a very different mask from hers, which was white and decorated with a few simple silver swirls.

She wanted to protest, but he did not give her a chance to do so, smoothly sliding into her personal space and placing one hand on her waist, his other hand slipping into hers. "Come now, it would be a pity if the princess were to wear such a frown at her own ball," the earl murmured in her ear, his voice smooth and seductive. She inhaled – she would very much like to pull away from him, but in front of all these people she'd rather not kick up a fuss. Resignedly, she placed her free hand on his shoulder and allowed him to steer her to the middle of the ballroom, where all the other noblemen were watching and waiting for her.

The orchestra began to play a light and lively piece, and she relaxed a little bit as Meito took the lead – his steps were confident and smooth, and it was clear that he was an experienced dancer. She supposed there could have been worse partners. "I am just wondering, my dear princess – is the prince truly ill, or is he simply sulking?" Meito whispered while he expertly twirled her around the floor, ignoring the loud claps and cries of wonder as the surrounding aristocrats applauded their dancing. "I heard that he is fond of using illness as an _excuse_."

"An excuse to?" she answered, raising an eyebrow though Meito could not see it through her mask. The young earl smiled, and he leant even closer to her – his body was warm and lean, and she could feel his breath upon her cheek. He was a little too close, but she didn't want to stop dancing just yet so she let him come near. He wouldn't dare do anything to her, would he? Even if he was a _connoisseur_ of women? She was still the prince's fiancée.

"Avoid all this pomp and celebration, of course. He isn't the type of enjoy such extravagant things, is he?" Meito commented. "I'm surprised he even showed up at the previous ball, the one meant to celebrate his birthday. Though I was not there myself, it did not take long for news of his sudden engagement to reach my ears," his smile became something more like a smirk. "And unsurprisingly, he is not present today either. Is there something going on between the two of you, I wonder? A couple should always be together, or so I assume."

"We are not joint at the hip, you know," she answered sharply, narrowing her eyes at him. "It is not necessary for us to do everything together. And no, he genuinely is ill today," she did not want to give him the pleasure of knowing his assumption was correct. Meito seemed to enjoy her irritation, chuckling softly and shaking his head. That teasing grin lingered on his face, and she felt a little uncomfortable. She had no idea what the earl was thinking.

"You two have only been engaged for a month, and you are already leaping eagerly to his defence. What a sweet wife you would make, Your Highness," even the way he addressed her was casual, and he didn't seem to particularly care for her status as he slowed down a little, ignoring the tempo of the piece. She had no choice but to slow down with him. "It makes me wonder – what would it be like if you agreed to marry me instead of him?" Meito asked aloud, his tone wondering. She glared at him, but he didn't seem sorry for his words.

On the contrary, he seemed to derive even more amusement from her reaction. "I can feel your glare piercing through my very soul, Your Highness. But I must confess that I have always preferred a challenge," he admitted, tilting his head. His mask made it impossible to really see his eyes. She could just barely make out the chocolate brown staring at her. "It is always the unattainable women who are most satisfying. They are such a challenge to conquer!"

"I am not a game for you to play – and for that matter, neither is any other woman," Miku retorted hotly, fed up with the way Meito was toying with her. "Why must you treat a lady this way? Does it entertain you to flirt with every maiden you see, Meito?" she shot at him.

"Oh, Your Highness! Referring to me by my name! I did not know we were on such intimate terms," the earl teased, leaning slightly closer to her. His lips were mere inches away from her ear, and she shivered, unable to help herself – he was just much too close. "I must admit that when I heard my name spoken in your melodious voice, I couldn't help but wonder…what would it be like if you graced my bed tonight, moaning my name in that sweet voice of yours, hmm?"

She found that she was blushing. How was he able to utter things like these in public, and with such a straight face at that? "That is highly inappropriate!" she scolded, feeling a little flustered. Even the prince had never said anything so explicit. "If you keep this up, Earl of Ereve, you will find yourself losing your dance partner," she warned him. He sighed.

"That would break my heart, Your Highness. You are such a lovely maiden. So beautiful, so delicate, so very much _alone_ ," he murmured, and she gasped when he tugged her towards him, tight against his lean body. She ought to get away from him, but when she tried to pull away, she found that she was unable to break free of his grip. "The prince is a fool to leave a beauty like you on her own. Does he not know that if he doesn't guard his treasure well," a knowing smirk curved his lips, "then another man will come and steal his precious away?"

"Oh, I know that perfectly well, Meito. I would appreciate it if you unhanded my fiancée," a cold voice pierced through the air, and she blinked, her gaze turning towards him – Romeo stood behind Meito, glaring right at the earl. He was dressed in black from head-to-toe, and even his mask was black. "And I meant right now," he added when Meito did not release her right away, staring at the prince as though he was a ghost who had appeared from nowhere.

"I apologise, Your Highness," Meito's voice was silky smooth, and reluctantly, he released her – she immediately took a step away from the earl, shooting him a suspicious look. She glanced around and saw Gumo watching them, looking concerned. She guessed the butler had gone to find Romeo when Meito swept her away. It seemed unlikely the prince would be here otherwise. "You were not here, and it was such a shame to leave her on her own…"

"Touch my fiancée again and I'll increase the taxes you have to pay to the crown," Romeo told him flatly. Meito hastily bowed and, with another insincere apology, melted into the crowd, likely searching for some other maiden to prey on. Miku inhaled, glad that she had been saved from that situation, and glanced at Romeo. The prince absolutely refused to look at her, but she was glad that he was here at all. She had not seen him in two weeks.

"Dance with me," the prince abruptly looked up, extending a hand towards her. She took it without hesitation, and they resumed dancing to the piece the orchestra played – some of the other nobles were beginning to dance with them too, so they were no longer the only ones moving around the ballroom. "Another masquerade party, I see. Gumi is certainly fond of reusing themes," the prince commented. His voice was smooth and even. She sighed.

"I'm surprised you came at all," she told him, wondering why he even bothered. She wasn't complaining about his presence, but it was odd that he would come so abruptly. He didn't answer, but she felt his fingers tightening a little around her. "Everyone else seemed convinced that you were not going to attend the ball. I thought I'd have to face the crowd alone," she frowned, glancing away from him to observe all the gathered noblemen.

She noticed Meito standing nearby, and though she still could not see his eyes, his face was turned in her direction. Her gaze landed on him and she saw a smirk curve his lips – he swept into a low bow as she passed, and she hastily looked away from him, her face going red again. He was preposterous. How dare he speak such sinfully seductive words to her? He needed to find someone else to distract him. "Don't look away from me," the prince spoke up all of a sudden, and she glanced back at him, startled. He was staring right at her now.

"Did Meito do anything else to you?" he demanded, and she shook her head, wondering how he was feeling. She really couldn't guess what was on his mind. One moment he was doing his best to avoid her, and the next he was dancing with her. She thought she could hear unhappiness in his voice. "Do you find him attractive?" the next question was asked bluntly, and it caught her off-guard – she frowned at him. Was he actually feeling…jealous?

"He _is_ very handsome," she admitted. "But that does not mean I am attracted to him," she reassured him. He didn't say anything else, and he danced with her until the waltz ended and the orchestra started up a new piece. Then he let go of her, and they just stood there facing each other, neither one of them saying anything. Her chest was ready to burst.

"I have a speech to give, according to Gumo," he finally spoke, turning his face away from her, observing the crowd in the ballroom. "There are so many members of the aristocracy present today. They probably all came with the intention of gaining favour with the future rulers of Ossyria," his words were bitter. "This room reeks of hypocrisy. You can't trust any member of the nobility further than you can throw them. The moment the throne begins to crumble, they all turn away, searching for greener pastures. Why should I entertain them?"

She hesitated. He sounded so hostile for once – she didn't think she had ever heard him this way before. He used to be playful and teasing, his words infuriating, but there was a flatness to his tone now that sounded so unlike him. Was this what he was really like, underneath all the smooth words and the charming smiles? "Even so, the aristocracy is there to support the crown. Without them, the nation cannot prosper," she tried, for once, to be the voice of reason.

A small smile crossed his face. "You're right," he turned back towards her, and his eyes were unreadable. She could feel the sharp blue piercing through her, studying her intently. "Even if I hate all the false flattery and the polite chatter, I have no choice but to put up with it. So you have your answer now, why I'm here at this ball tonight. And I also do not wish to hear my father nagging at me about my utter lack of responsibility," he drawled, sounding bored.

She felt disappointed. He hadn't come specially to save her from Meito then – that was just a coincidence. "Well, since you're here, then we might as well try to enjoy ourselves," she suggested. He nodded, and he reached out for her again, holding her close as they resumed their dancing. Despite his presence however, she felt strangely lonely – he had built a wall around him, a wall even stronger and higher than the one he had in the beginning, and she didn't know how to climb across it. She almost felt like he was treating her with the same guardedness as he did all the other noblemen. Why did he keep trying to push her away?

Len was feeling extremely uneasy. He could see Meito hungrily eyeing his partner as he led her across the ballroom floor, and he knew that if he let down his guard for even just one second, the earl would sweep in and take Cinderella away from him. Meito was not the kind to give up so easily – while that dogged obstinacy was useful in other situations, it certainly was a pain when it came to women. Even more so when his target was his oblivious fiancée.

He was only here because Gumo suddenly burst into his room and told him that Meito was attempting to seduce his fiancée. He wouldn't have come for any other reason, having long decided that he would miss this event. He hadn't wanted to see Cinderella again until he was able to settle his feelings and get himself back into his earlier state of detachment. But the moment he heard about Meito, he quickly dressed himself up and rushed to the ballroom, not willing to let the notorious earl do anything to Cinderella. She was _his_ fiancée, and there was no way he was allowing a famed womaniser to touch her. Not even over his dead body.

Cinderella kept her gaze fixed on his shirt, not willing to look at his face. He took the chance, while she wasn't looking, to watch her – he hadn't seen her in two entire weeks, and while he most certainly had not forgotten what she looked like, seeing her beauty right in front of him and not just in his mind's eye made him momentarily speechless. He was very tempted to steal her away from the ball right now and bring her back to their shared room so that he could lay her on the bed and trail lingering kisses over her skin while her fingers threaded through his hair, his name falling from her lips in quiet whispers. But he couldn't possibly do that. He knew he never could, not if he wished to retain even the tiniest shred of self-respect.

And besides, he promised himself that he wouldn't touch her again until he had sorted out his own feelings, not unless it was absolutely necessary. He didn't _want_ to fall for her, but it was difficult not to give in to his impulses when she was right here in front of him, dressed in a pure white gown that made her look so innocent, so _radiant_. He hadn't seen her in two whole weeks. Feeling a little overwhelmed, he halted, and she looked up at him, curiosity on her face. Her lips were slightly parted, and he glanced at them, unable to help himself. Even now, he still remembered what they felt like against his. They were so _soft_ …

"I must get a drink. Dancing tires me," he told her. It was a stupid excuse, but he needed to avoid her for a while. She nodded, and he released her, his gaze lingering on her for just a few seconds longer before he left. "Don't get so lost in dancing that you forget who you are," he finally told her, and she tilted her head, clearly puzzled by his words. But he didn't stay around to explain himself – he needed to leave _now_ before he forgot his promise and reached out to her, keeping her by his side for the rest of the night. He needed some air.

Turning, he disappeared into the crowd, searching for one of the servants. He easily found one, accepting a glass of wine and downing it in one gulp – his fingers were trembling as he gripped the stem of the wineglass. The alcohol soothed him a little, and he groaned, his hand fluttering up to rest against his forehead. He had a headache. "Your Highness, are you troubled?" a familiar voice filled with worry reached him, and he looked up at his butler, who watched him with concern all over his face. "Take care not to drink too much tonight."

"I won't," he muttered, placing the now empty wineglass on a table. His hands still shaking a little, he reached out for a piece of cake, popping it in his mouth and chewing robotically. He couldn't taste the sweetness of the cake. "I promised to reduce the amount of wine I drank, and I'm not going to let a pointless ball ruin my efforts," he looked around again, unwilling to let himself search for Cinderella. If he did, he knew he would return to her immediately.

"If you really were ill, you shouldn't have come," Gumo shook his head, clearly concerned for the prince. When he found Len in his room, he had been sitting listlessly on his bed, just staring into empty space. He wasn't even looking at his work, which was a startling change. It made Gumo wonder if the prince's usual excuse, that he was feeling poorly, was true for once. The prince laughed, though there was no humour in the sound, glancing back at him.

"I am not ill," he beckoned to another servant, finishing off his second glass of wine in mere seconds. Gumo frowned. At this rate, the prince would become tipsy. He could hold his wine well, but drinking it so quickly was certainly not good for him. "I am just restless. What am I to feel, Gumo, while my fiancée dances with another man?" he asked, carefully placing the second emptied glass next to the first one. The butler did not know how he could respond.

Instead, he tried asking a question of his own. "Why are you avoiding her, Your Highness?" he wanted to understand what his master was thinking. "She spent the past two weeks asking us where you were. But none of us could tell her because you told us not to breathe a word. It upsets her to know that you are blatantly staying away from her," he added.

The prince sighed. "You already know why I am avoiding her, Gumo. Don't ask unnecessary questions," he told him flatly. The butler nodded, though he wished he could press for more information. But that would be rude, and it was not in his place to question any further. "How much longer until I must give that speech? Once it's done, I'll retire to my room," he added, sounding a little irritable now. Gumo looked around for the king, but could not spot the king's trademark long purple hair anywhere. It was the king who decided how the night's activities would flow, so without him, they couldn't be sure when to do what.

"I'll ask His Majesty on your behalf," he promised, still scanning the ballroom – but then he spotted a very familiar head of teal by the window, cornered by someone with dark brown hair and an elegant black mask – the Earl of Ereve, it seemed. From here, Gumo was unable to see the look on Cinderella's face, but the earl was extremely close to her and the butler was not reassured to see a playful smirk on his face. "Your Highness, is that not your fiancée being cornered by the Earl of Ereve?" he pointed out. Len immediately shot upright, staring in the direction Gumo indicated. He didn't say a single word, just leaving the table.

Miku was feeling rather uncomfortable. Meito had sought her out almost the very moment the prince left her alone, and while she tried to talk her way out of it, even attempting to find another nobleman to dance with, the earl was _extremely_ persistent – and his status as son of one of the Founding Four families clearly gave him a great deal of influence, because he simply had to shoot any other man a level stare and the other aristocrat would scurry away. Why was it that only the Sakine family had a son who was close to her age? The Kagamine family did not appear to be present, the Kamui family only had the king, and…well, the Hatsune family had no descendant besides herself. "Give it a thought," the earl was now saying to her.

"Your attention flatters me," she sighed, wondering if she'd manage to step on his foot _this_ time if she tried – she had attempted to incapacitate him that way a few times throughout this entire conversation, but Meito was clearly used to sidestepping irate women, and he didn't even look when he moved away from her feet. "But I am already promised to the prince. What part of that will not go through your thick skull?" she hissed, attempting to pull her wrist away from him again. His grip on her was tight, and he refused to let go of her hand.

"You are promised but not yet married, are you?" the earl leant close to her, and she felt his lips lightly graze her ear, his breath brushing against her skin. His lips were soft, and he was very warm. She stilled, her heart thudding. "I do not understand – why would you marry a prince who clearly does not treasure you? A ravishing young maiden like you, left alone at a ball. It is blasphemy. I'd make sure to treat you much, _much_ better than he ever would," his fingers reached up, lingering tenderly against her cheek. She didn't know what to say.

His words did strike a chord. She was tired of being ignored by her fiancé. One moment he was warm and tender, and the next he was so cold and distant – he didn't even want to tell her what she did wrong, what she could do to make the situation better. Maybe Meito was right, after all? "I…I will not be so easily swayed by a few sweet words," she finally told him, but she could hear the faint quiver in her voice, and the knowing smile on Meito's face showed that he could hear it too. He stepped closer to her, further shrinking the already small distance between them. She wanted to tell him to leave, but her tongue was frozen.

The earl's face was much too close. She tried to pull away, but he had her pressed between him and the wall and there wasn't really anywhere she could go. She looked desperately around, wondering how was it that no one seemed to realise she was stuck here. But all the other aristocrats were laughing, dancing and mingling, and no one was paying the window any attention. His smooth words, his brown eyes and his playful smirk were making her feel rather lightheaded. She needed to get away from here. "You know I'm right, don't you? You know it too. You don't want to marry someone who won't treat you the way you deserve to be treated. But I'll make sure to treasure you every single day, for the rest of our lives, as long as you're willing to just give in and be with me…" his voice was so soft, so persuasive.

She swallowed. She wasn't going to fall for his tricks, but she needed to get away from here as soon as she could before _he_ did something to her. Like kiss her. He was much too close by this point, and she feared that if this dragged on for any longer… "Let go of me!" she raised her voice, shaking her head and giving him her iciest glare. The earl just laughed, amused by her attempt to chase him away, and his hand slid down to grip her chin. She tried to jerk her head away, but he held fast, and his body was against hers and he was so tall and lean –

Then suddenly he was torn away from her, and she could breathe again. Her breaths were shaky. Looking up, grateful for her saviour, she saw the prince glaring at Meito, who looked as unruffled and relaxed as ever, even shooting Romeo an easy-going grin. "I've already warned you before," there was barely suppressed rage in the prince's voice. "Touch my fiancée again, and you _will_ regret it. Clearly threats seem to go through one ear and out of the other for you, don't they, Meito?" Romeo was standing between her and the earl, and there was so much icy anger in his words that she actually felt a little afraid. The earl simply grimaced.

"It's difficult not to approach her when you just keep leaving her alone," he countered, as though that was a valid reason for ignoring the prince's warning. "She is an extremely charming maiden, Your Highness. And you know I have quite a weakness for lovely women," he tilted his head, his gaze meeting hers again. There was a smirk on his face. "Besides, one gets the feeling that you do not feel as strongly for her as we might think. In that case, don't you think it'd be fairer if someone else took her, someone who was able to give her the affection she deserves?"

"What makes you think that I don't care for her?" the prince retorted. "She means more to me than you know. And…" he reached behind him, grasping her hand tightly. She glanced at him, wondering what he was going to say. She hadn't heard him sounding so emotional in a while. The way he spoke to her lately felt so careful, almost aloof. "She is _mine_ , Meito. It'll be treason if you attempt to steal her away from me, and I will not hesitate to cut your head from your shoulders if I see you making her uncomfortable again. This is no empty threat," he hissed.

There was a pause, and finally Meito shrugged, looking unbothered by all the fuss. "Fine. As you wish then, Your Highness," his gaze met Miku's again, and a small smile crossed his face. "Would it hurt though, to just give your loyal servant a quick kiss? It would definitely make my night, and I'm sure that you can decide what you want to do with your own mouth –"

The prince turned towards her, and the next thing she knew he was tilting her face up, and his mouth covered hers again, a firm, unyielding kiss that took her completely by surprise. His hands settled on her waist, pulling her close to him, and she felt her eyes instinctively close as she returned the kiss, remembering the sensation of his warm lips against hers. She could vaguely hear Meito mumbling something incomprehensible, but she didn't care what he said, her hands reaching up to loop around the prince's neck. His kiss was softening now, and she felt him catch her bottom lip between his teeth, his tongue running over her lips. She gasped, her lips parting slightly, and he returned to her mouth, teasing her delicately with his light breaths. His lips were so very soft, just like how she remembered.

His hands gripped her waist tightly, holding her to him, and even when she was sure that Meito was gone, he still didn't let go. She was the one to pull away first, her lungs burning for air, and the prince continued staring at her, breathing slightly faster than usual. He bit his lip, and she could practically feel the uncertainty emanating from him, but before he could open his mouth, she reached out, pressing a finger against his lips. "Shh," she whispered. "Don't say a thing. For just one night, can we pretend that there is nothing wrong – that we are just like any other couple, that neither one of us has a past that hurts us?" she pleaded.

He continued to stare at her wordlessly, and she was afraid that he would say no and turn away from her again – but to her surprise, he raised one of his hands and slid his thumb over her cheek, his other hand still firm on her waist. "Very well," he murmured. She thought his blue eyes were closed. "Just one night…it's only one night," he repeated to himself, and there was a tinge of confusion in his voice. But when she leant her head against his chest and slipped her arms around him, she felt him tuck her underneath his chin, and he whispered her name in her ear. It sounded almost like a plea in his voice – no, a prayer.

"Don't let me go for this one night," she looked up at him. He nodded, and she sighed against his chest, inhaling his familiar scent. Maybe tomorrow they would be back to what they were like before, with the prince avoiding her and her having no idea what she did wrong – but tonight, they could pretend that they were simply any other couple. That they didn't have any secrets to hide. And that thought made her feel a little happier.


	34. Chapter 34

"And I thank you all for coming tonight," Len wrapped up his speech, smiling at the crowd. Cinderella was standing beside him, and his arm was placed around her waist, holding her tight against him. Though she was smiling as well, he could tell that she felt nervous standing out here.

The aristocrats all politely applauded, and he tugged on Cinderella's hand, leading her away. His fiancée followed him, and he didn't stop until they were out of the ballroom, and the laughter and chatter of the people had faded away. He watched her, unsure what he should do now. He agreed to put aside his fears and doubts for just this one night, and now he had no idea how to continue. "Do you want to go to the rose gardens again?" she suddenly asked, her voice quiet.

He nodded. He wasn't sure he would have been able to say anything even if he tried. She was the one who led the way this time, and he studied her teal hair, done up in an elegant bun though a few tendrils were beginning to fall loose – when she stood in front of the back door, he reached out to her, taking out the hairpin that was holding her hair in place. She froze as her hair tumbled down her back, wavy after being done up in a bun for so long. "What are you doing?" she whispered. He didn't know what to tell her. But he wound locks of her hair around his fingers, bringing them up to his lips. Then he lifted his gaze, meeting her eyes.

She was staring quizzically at him, clearly uncertain. He swallowed. "If I never became the prince, I wouldn't have met you," he murmured. "But I only became the prince because my fiancée died. Is it a good thing then, to have met you?" he wasn't searching for an answer. He was looking for validation, but from who? Cinderella's gaze softened, and she lifted her delicate hands to his face. He half-expected her to reassure him that he did nothing wrong.

After all, that was what anyone else would say, wasn't it? But she did not. Instead, she just stood there quietly, her slim fingers tracing the line of his jaw, brushing lightly over his lips. "No, don't talk about this," she told him softly, in a voice so tender and understanding that his heart ached. "We're a normal couple now, remember? Tonight, there is nothing to hold us back from spending time together. No what-ifs, no if-onlys. It's just the two of us."

Was it really so easy to just push everything aside and pretend that nothing was wrong? His past was such a huge part of him that what she wanted from him – for him to forget about all his regrets and worries – felt like a horribly challenging task, even if it was only temporary. But Len wanted to try. Not for himself, because he had lived with this pain for so long that he already became used to it – but for her. Because Cinderella wanted him to forget it all for this one night.

"It's only a temporary solution, you know," he told her, though he reached up to cover her hands with his, grasping her delicate hands tightly and lowering them to his chest. "We can pretend for one night, but what about tomorrow? The day after? It's all going to come back, and this night will be no more than an idyllic dream," his voice was bitter. She just smiled.

"Maybe it would be better to have one pleasant dream than an unending living nightmare," she answered, and her tone was wistful. He hesitated. What she said made sense. If he just treated all this like a dream, then he didn't have to feel bad about being around her, did he? "You take all your pain upon yourself," she continued, "and you don't tell anyone around you that you're hurting inside. Why?" she breathed. "You wouldn't tell me even if I asked, would you? But if we're in a dream, all that pain disappears," her hands fell away from his.

His breath caught. "Don't go –" he started, but she pushed the door open and slipped out of the palace, the faint glow of the moonlight gently illuminating her fair skin. He followed her, unwilling to let her out of his sight. She was just like a faerie, ethereal and mysterious in the silvery radiance of the moon, and there was such a sweet, tempting smile on her face when she turned around and looked at him, challenging him to catch up to her. Her teal hair, now loose and undone, fell in silken waves around her face. "Wait for me," he called out to her.

"Find me then," she answered, laughing as her feet carried her across the palace grounds, in the direction of the rose gardens. He gave in and chased her, allowing her to stay ahead of him until they reached the fountain – when he caught up to her, he slipped his arms around her waist and forced her to stay there, her laughter breathless as she tipped her head back, face turned towards the moonlight. There was wonder in her green eyes. She was beautiful.

He was breathing harder than he normally did, and he hadn't realised that he was smiling. "Roses are my favourite flower," she turned her head to tell him, and he felt her hands slip over his, clutching tightly on to his wrists. He wasn't sure if the sweet fragrance he smelled was that of the roses around them or her scent. "I think they're beautiful. But they also have thorns, so if you're not careful, you'll get hurt," her voice softened, and she sounded almost sad. "Do you think that roses ever feel lonely, not being able to freely share their beauty?"

"Well, if you're careful then you won't get hurt," he answered, sweeping some of her hair away from her eyes, tucking the stray strands behind her ear. "Perhaps roses only have to wait for the right person to come along and pick them. If that person can avoid the thorns, then they won't be hurt, and the rose can share its beauty too," he mused. She sighed.

"Then do you think I will ever find someone who can protect themselves from my thorns?" she murmured, and she sounded so wistful, perhaps even mournful. He caught her chin, turning her face towards him, and he searched her green eyes, trying to understand what she might be thinking. Her eyes were wide, and he could see shining stars in their depths.

"I know my way around a rose," he told her, slowly brushing his thumb against her bottom lip. Her scent made him dizzy. "And if you'd allow yourself to be picked by me…" his grip on her tightened, and he felt a little afraid – afraid that she'd suddenly slip away from him and disappear, and he'd never find her again. "I promise to take care of you for the rest of your life. I'd never do anything to hurt you, and if anyone else tries, they'll regret their actions."

"Do you love me?" she asked, and he blinked, hesitating – did he love her? He couldn't. He knew he was still in love with Rin. But he wasn't supposed to think about Rin now, so if he wasn't still holding on to his past, would he love her? He opened his mouth, but he didn't know what to say. She smiled, pulling away from him. "You don't need to answer me now," she told him softly, stepping further into the rose gardens. He felt empty when she left.

Len followed her, his gaze studying her as she danced among the flowers, her sweet peals of laughter music to his ears. She paused, leaning down to inhale the fragrance of the scarlet blooms. When she lifted her head, she met his gaze, and she had the loveliest smile on her face. "Are you afraid of being with me?" he asked, curious. Was he the only one who faced any problems imagining a life together? Or did she have her own reservations about him?

"No, I'm not afraid," she shook her head. "I know you care about me, and you care deeply. You care more than I ever thought possible," Cinderella approached him with all the caution of a woodlands deer, hesitantly sliding her arms around his waist. He returned the embrace, holding her so tightly that he feared he might suffocate her. "I think you are the one who is afraid of being with me," she told him, and he exhaled. He was already aware of that.

"May I kiss you?" he asked, wondering what she would say. Underneath the moonlight, in the middle of the rose gardens, it felt like they were completely alone. He couldn't hear the sounds of music or celebration, and it was so quiet and peaceful here. She looked up at him and he couldn't read her expression, not with that white mask in the way, so he took it off. She made no move to stop him, and he let the mask flutter to the ground. She was watching him curiously, and there was nothing blocking him anymore – he let his fingers brush over her cheek, sweeping up to the corner of her eye. She sighed at his touch, and he bit his lip.

"If you take your own mask off too," she answered, and she was already reaching up to his face, removing it for him – it felt like a weight was lifted from his shoulders when the mask dropped onto the grass, leaving both their faces bare. He reminded himself that all this was only for one night and afterwards, things would be back to normal. He could forgive all his mistakes for tonight, just tonight. Why was she so beautiful? Surely no mortal could be so stunning, so _unspeakably_ lovely. She surely must be an angel, descended from the heavens.

Perhaps she could absolve him of all his sins. Perhaps she would not call him a worthless son who allowed himself to be swayed by a woman's touch, by a few soft, sweet words. Perhaps to her, he wouldn't be someone who allowed his less important desires to interfere with his responsibilities. For a short while, he could forget who he was and just focus on her, this girl who meant so much to him. Why couldn't things always stay so simple? He wished it could be just him and her, but a voice in the back of his head reminded him that this wouldn't last.

She was clearly waiting for him, her lips slightly parted as she watched him, curiosity and – he was not sure, but was that desire? – in her gaze. Their faces were so close that he could feel her gentle breath on his face. He instinctively closed his eyes, closing the tiny distance between them, and once again he felt her lips against his, tender and giving. She let him do as he wanted, his tongue hesitantly exploring her mouth, trying to memorise what she felt like – if all this was only possible for one night, then he wouldn't hold himself back.

He could hear her whimpering as he kissed her deeply, unwilling to let her go. When he first brought her back to the palace a month ago, he would never have thought that she could make his heart race so quickly just by being near him – he would never have thought that the mere sound of her voice could make his chest tighten, almost to the point of pain. And for once, he wasn't thinking about how he shouldn't be doing all this, how kissing her would mean that he betrayed Rin's memory. For once, he simply enjoyed the sensation of Cinderella's lips and her softness and how warm her body was. She really was so warm.

"Len," she pulled back from him and whispered his name so lovingly that his heart broke – but his eyes flew open in shock upon hearing his name. How did she know his name? His heart was racing, and his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. It took a while, but then he realised that he was in his room, and that everything he just saw was only a dream. With a sigh, he dragged his hand over his eyes, sitting up in bed. The room was dark. He didn't have to look to know that his bed was empty. Cinderella was not here. She didn't know where he was sleeping, but he couldn't help feeling disappointed that she wasn't lying next to him.

It had been a week since the ball. He had been having this dream every night, for all seven nights – Cinderella laughing and dancing in the rose gardens, promising him that this would only be for one night, and the night ending with him kissing her. He always dreamt of that kiss, that very same kiss right before he woke up. In reality, she _had_ pulled him out to the rose gardens, but they didn't talk about roses and dreams – instead, they just sat quietly next to each other at the bench where they had watched the sunset. There was no kiss. There was no intimacy, and he knew that they both just wanted to escape the ball for a while.

So why did he keep dreaming of himself kissing her? Why did he dream of holding her in his arms, inhaling her sweet scent – why did he dream of intimacy he never really experienced? He groaned, frustrated with himself. He let one of his hands slide across the mattress, and it was cold to the touch. Closing his eyes, he pulled up old memories of Cinderella in their bed, curling up against him while he held her tightly in his arms. He could almost feel her hair and her warmth, and as he lay back down, he imagined she was with him in this bed right now, her green eyes dark, a faint smile on her face. She wasn't really there, but…memories were all he had.

He missed her. He didn't want to admit it because once he said this out loud, he knew he'd never be able to resist leaving the room and searching for her. But every second he spent away from her _hurt_. The dreams only made it worse. He didn't even see Rin anymore. Now, all he saw was Cinderella, and he couldn't hold her when he woke up. She was never there, and every time he opened his eyes, he couldn't help the surge of disappointment that went through him. Even if he went back to sleep, he'd dream of her again, and he didn't know if he loved it or hated it. He was happy to see her again, but…she would always fade away so quickly.

Cinderella never stayed in his dreams. More than once, he went back to sleep after the usual dream about the rose gardens, and she would appear again – he would call out to her, and she would turn her head and smile, but she never waited. Instead, she simply walked on and on until she faded away, and he'd wake up with his lungs burning and a hollow ache in his chest. Just once, he wished she would stay so that he could at least talk to her in his dreams. He wanted to hear her voice again. But she never stayed with him, and he bitterly thought that he only had himself to blame. He was the one who kept pushing her away.

But this was the right thing to do. Wasn't it? He had to uphold the promises he made. He had to do whatever he could to make sure that he didn't fall any further. But he was also so afraid. He feared that what Sakine Meito said would come true – that if he wasn't careful, if he didn't look after his fiancée, Cinderella would be stolen away by another man. He tried to imagine what that would feel like, and he shook his head, shuddering – no. He couldn't lose her. But at the same time, he couldn't be too close to her…what should he do? There were two sides within him, one side which was responsible and logical and knew what he had to do, and another side which simply yearned for Cinderella. He didn't know which side to listen to.

Staring up at the ceiling, he forced his eyes to stay open – while he was tired and he wanted to sleep, he knew that if he slept he would dream again. And if he dreamt, he would see her. She would run away from him, laughing and smiling the whole time, and he would have no choice but to watch, unable to follow her, unable to touch her or hold her or _kiss_ her. It was both a sweet and cruel torture. He laughed, a mocking sound – if only Cinderella knew how he was feeling right now. Would she pity him, or would she think that he deserved his pain?

Either way, he wouldn't blame her. He had brought all this upon himself. The question he asked in his dream remained unanswered – should he be grateful for meeting Cinderella, even though he could only meet her because Rin died? If he loved Rin, he couldn't possibly love Cinderella. Yet if he loved Cinderella, then he broke his promise to his dead fiancée.

He counted the seconds as they passed, waiting for the morning to come. He didn't want to go back to sleep. Len wondered how much longer he could withstand this torture. He knew that the solution was simple – leave this room, return to his original bedroom and slide into bed next to Cinderella. Then he could see her again, the _real_ her and not just some shadow of her. But he wasn't willing to give up just yet. He had to hold out for a while longer. Surely his emotions would sort themselves out soon? Maybe it would only take a few more days…

* * *

"I can't tell you, Your Highness," Gumi shook her head, sounding exasperated. "You know I cannot. If I was given permission to do so, I would have let you know a long time ago," she continued, sorting through the folded laundry. Miku hovered around her, persistent.

"He's been avoiding me for over a _week_ , Gumi," Miku sighed, frustrated. The last time she saw the prince was on the night of the ball. He went out with her to the rose gardens, but they hardly spoke a word to each other. He did hold her hand though, which made a nice change. Otherwise, they just sat on the bench and looked up at the night sky. There was no need to fill up the silence with chatter. His presence was comforting and very familiar.

Then they agreed to not return to the ball, and they went their separate ways. She still did not know where he was sleeping. Gumi sighed as well, turning to face her. She placed the piles of freshly washed laundry on the table, reaching out to touch Miku's face. Her hands were firm but gentle. "Your Highness, I wish I could tell you, but unless the prince himself tells us that we are allowed to divulge his whereabouts, we cannot reveal his secret. He is stubborn and I sometimes think he is a fool, but he is still our master. His word is our –"

"He's in my room," another voice interrupted, and both of them turned around, Gumi with a look of incredulity on her face, Miku's heart fluttering with hope. The door to the laundry room was open, and Gumo stood there, his expression resigned. "Gumi, have you _seen_ the prince lately? It is about time someone intervened. He doesn't know what he's doing to himself."

"He ordered us not to tell her anything!" Gumi exclaimed. "As servants, our master's word is law. How could you just blatantly disregard this?" she sounded utterly shocked, shaking her head at her brother. However, Gumo simply approached them, closing the door behind him. When he spoke, his words were directed towards his sister, but his gaze never left Miku.

"You have not seen him besides when you give him his meals. But I've been by his side the entire day, and he's drinking himself to sleep, drowning himself in work. Do you know why? Because he is hoping that he will exhaust himself to the point where he will not dream," at this, his eyes left Miku, going back to his sister. Miku bit her lip, startled by Gumo's words. She had not imagined that Romeo would be doing all this to himself. Why would he be so cruel to his own body? "You and I both know that obeying his command is only hurting him. And it is also our duty to ensure that our master is safe and sound," he added, voice firm.

There was silence for a while as Gumi took in her brother's words. Finally, the head servant nodded and turned towards Miku, her green eyes serious. "His Highness is in Gumo's room. He usually spends the day in the king's private study and returns to my brother's room to sleep. If you go there now, you should be able to catch him having his afternoon nap. Every single day, at this exact timing, he will take a nap. Like clockwork, he is," she muttered. "I hope you will be able to make him see sense, Your Highness. He is ruining himself, and he does not know it."

Miku nodded, her heart in her throat. "Thank you for helping me," she told both servants. "If you never told me all this, I probably would never have found the prince, no matter how hard I searched," she admitted. Gumi smiled, while Gumo chuckled and shook his head.

"No, thank you, Cinderella. Thank you for coming to the palace and changing the prince. The very fact that he is going through all this emotional turmoil right now – it is proof that he is able to feel, and he cares a great deal about you. I think," Gumo looked appraisingly at her, "that you might be the one who is finally able to touch his heart, and release the emotions which he has sealed away for so long." The butler bowed to her, and he looked so grateful.

Miku felt almost overwhelmed. Stepping forward, she threw her arms around Gumo, who froze the moment she hugged him, shocked by what she was doing. "I don't know what I would have done without you, Gumo," she admitted, leaning her chin against his shoulder. He was so stiff that it almost felt like hugging a mannequin. "You were the person who was always the kindest to me in the palace, even if you sounded like a nagging mother at times. I would have been completely lost and miserable if you were not here," she told him, her voice ringing with sincerity. She heard him sigh, then she felt a slender hand gingerly patting her back.

"I am grateful that you think I am so useful, Cinderella," he told her, "but it is highly inappropriate for you to hug me this way, so please try to avoid doing so again. Though I will let it pass this time and refrain from nagging at you, since you appear to dislike that," there was mirth in his voice, and when Miku lifted her gaze, she could see Gumi giggling. The head servant was hiding her mouth behind her hand, and she abruptly turned away when Miku stared at her.

Miku pulled away, suddenly feeling rather self-conscious. A smile danced on Gumo's lips as he walked over to the door, holding it open for her. "You should hurry, Cinderella. There is no telling when the prince will wake up," he cautioned. "And if you dally, you may miss him today," she nodded and hurried out of the room, walking towards the stairs. She was going to find the prince and convince him to stop avoiding her – no matter what his problem was, they could talk things through. It was better than just completely staying away from her.

Gumo and Gumi watched her leave. Once the princess disappeared up the stairs, Gumo turned to face his sister, one eyebrow raised. "And what did you find so entertaining?" he asked, already expecting some sort of ridiculous answer. Gumi was very easily amused.

"Your _face_ ," Gumi began laughing again, his question clearly reminding her of that memory. "I've never seen someone looking so mortified. It's just a _hug_ , Gumo! It's not like you're stealing her away from the prince just because of one hug!" she cackled, holding her sides as she shook with laughter. Gumo looked heavenwards, exasperated by his twin. She was definitely overreacting.

"I was _shocked_ , that's all," he shook his head. "Anyone else would be shocked too. She is the princess after all – how was I supposed to react?" he defended himself. "And besides, I am far too old for her. The thought of stealing her away has never even crossed my mind," he protested. Gumi just rolled her eyes, drawing in deep breaths as she tried to stop laughing.

"I believe what you say, simply because you are so dedicated to the prince and the king that you would never imagine falling in love with someone. You're married to your job, Gumo," she accused. Gumo narrowed his eyes, tempted to pick up a basket of laundry and dump it on his sister's head – but that would result in even more work for them, so he resisted the urge.

"I think that statement is very ironic, coming from you," he pointed out politely instead. His twin simply rolled her eyes again, clearly unable to come up with a retort, and resumed sorting out the piles of laundry. A faint smile on his face, he got to work as well, helping her fold the remaining pieces of clothing. He had nothing else to do at the moment – he didn't want to interrupt Cinderella and the prince. Hopefully, she would be able to talk some sense into him.

* * *

The door to Gumo's room was unlocked. Miku hesitantly knocked, wondering if Romeo was still sleeping – there was no response, so she opened the door and looked inside, wondering what to expect. The room was dim, the curtains drawn. There was a person lying on the bed.

She approached. She could just vaguely make out golden blond hair, glimmering in the darkness. The prince was quite clearly asleep, and she gingerly perched on the edge of the bed, her fingers reaching out to his face. She didn't touch him though, her fingers hovering just a tiny distance away from his skin. She was afraid of waking him up – she still hadn't decided what to say yet. She knew her purpose here. She wanted to persuade him to stop avoiding her.

How exactly she was going to do that was a different thing altogether. As she pondered her possibilities, the prince stirred, and she started, wondering if he was about to awaken. He mumbled something – she thought he said "don't leave me", but she couldn't be sure. She sighed. He was probably dreaming of Rin. That was nothing new to her. His expression was troubled. Carefully, she brushed his hair away from his face, and his frown smoothed out at her touch. Her fingertips traced his lips, lingering over the delicate lines of his handsome face.

To think that he went to such extremes just to avoid her. It made her feel rather sad – was she really that difficult to spend time with? She honestly thought that she was being rather agreeable, especially compared to how she was like in the past. Getting up from the bed, she glanced around, wondering what the prince brought with him when he moved to Gumo's room. There were papers scattered all over the desk, but she spotted a familiar envelope within the pile. Walking to the desk, she reached out for the envelope, curious.

It was the letter she had written to him. It was still inside the envelope, and she took it out, unfolding the parchment. The parchment felt a little worn, as though it had been read many times over, and as she looked through what she had written, she noticed that some sentences were underlined or circled, and there were small splatters of ink everywhere. Romeo clearly had been more concerned with what she was saying than with keeping the letter clean. There was a single word scrawled at the bottom of the letter. _Why_? That was all he wrote.

She instantly felt horrible. That single word was etched deep, and it was a surprise that the parchment did not tear from the force he must have used. His handwriting, normally so neat and elegant – she had seen his handwritten letters before, and his penmanship was astoundingly beautiful – was barely legible. He definitely didn't care about appearances here. She could imagine the pain and confusion he must have felt when he pored over her letter, and she knew that she would always feel guilty about putting him through this. The prince suddenly moaned.

Miku dropped the letter, turning back to look at the bed. The prince still had not awoken, but he was tossing and turning now, and the frown had returned to his face. She hurried to him, unsure what she could do but determined to help soothe him, the same way he once calmed her after she woke up from her nightmares. Sitting next to him, she lightly touched his cheek, murmuring words of comfort as quietly as she could. Romeo stilled when he heard her voice – she could see his chest rising and falling, a clear sign of his agitation.

Suddenly, his eyes flicked open and he lunged out, grabbing her wrist. He pulled her on top of him and she fell with a yelp, just barely managing to hold herself up with her free arm. Her eyes met his blue ones, and they were wild and filled with panic. His breaths were quick and shallow. "Cinderella…?" he whispered, and there was confusion in his gaze. She wasn't sure what to say, so she simply nodded, and he continued staring at her for a while longer.

"This must be a dream, isn't it?" he murmured, shaking his head dazedly. "You're never here when I wake up. You can't possibly be here. So you must be a dream," a tired smile crossed his face now that he had apparently convinced himself that he was dreaming. "It's a nice dream though. You feel so real. So soft and warm," he whispered, his hand reaching up to stroke her cheek. She played along, her fingers intertwining with his other hand. "If this is a dream, then I don't want to wake up," he breathed. She gently traced his lips once again.

"What do I normally do in your dreams?" she whispered, wondering how long this could last before he realised that he was actually awake. Romeo blinked slowly at her before he tugged on the hand she was using to prop herself up over him. It gave way and she fell onto him, his arms slipping around her, holding her to him – she could feel his heart beating in his chest.

"I'll tell you everything if you promise you'll stay this time," he almost sounded like he was begging. She nodded, and he abruptly relaxed, even his grip on her loosening a little. "I'll tell you anything you want to know," he promised, and she bit her lip, wondering what she ought to ask first. "But no matter what I tell you, swear that you won't leave me again."

"I swear I won't," his obvious desperation made her chest ache. He looked so tired. "I'll stay with you forever if you want. I just need to know this," she met his gaze, and he stared at her, completely mesmerised. "If being apart from me hurts you so much, then why do you insist on avoiding me?"


End file.
